A Time and Place to Learn
by VictorianChik
Summary: Sequel to A Time and Place to Grow. After spending a summer with Snape, Harry begins his sixth year at Hogwarts. But Snape is keeping an eye and a firm hand on him, and a new teacher, split loyalties and a looming fight with the Dark Lord await Harry.
1. Back to School

Hello, everyone.

Well, I'm back for a sequel. Those of you who have just happened to stumble upon my story, can I convince you to read or at least scan over quickly my first Harry Potter story, A Time and Place to Grow? Otherwise you might feel a bit lost.

I am introducing at least two original characters, but I don't think they're Mary Sues. And they most certainly could have shown up at Hogwarts. I'm only taking into account certain events from book six, very much doing whatever I want.

Probably will include some form of Corporal Punishment since my first story had it. But not until later chapters. What else?

Oh, don't own or make any money. Just like getting the reviews.

So tell me what you think, and what you might like to see.

Thanks.

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The ride from London to Hogwarts seemed to pass in a matter of minutes. Harry had been sure he would be bored without Ron or Hermione to talk to, as they were sitting with the other Perfects or monitoring students. But alone in the compartment with Neville, he and Harry chatted about the summer and the classes they wanted to take. Harry wisely said nothing about Potions, and Neville didn't bring it up so they eased by that landmine with no difficulty.

They were about halfway to the school when Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the toy snitch Snape had given him. Neville took an interest in it immediately.

"A bit like my Remembrall," he noted, peering at the little ball. "What does it do?"

Harry almost tossed it in the air to show Neville, but he stopped himself just in time. What would happen if the snitch zoomed around in the train compartment and got loose and they were running down the train halls, trying to catch it? Yeah, Snape would really like that; his newly adopted son could not make it through a whole train ride without causing trouble.

So Harry told Neville what it did, careful not to throw the toy up in the air, even a few inches.

Towards the end of the trip, Neville asked awkwardly, "Er – um, about this past year . . ."

"What about it?" Harry asked, leaning towards the window, trying to catch a glimpse of Hogwarts as they rounded the last bend.

"About – you know, Sirius," Neville whispered the name.

"Oh," Harry looked back at him and paused for only a second. "That's all right. I'm good now."

"Really?" Neville did not look convinced.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "let's just say I got some – uh, counseling over the summer."

"Counseling?" Neville repeated uncertainly.

"Yeah, but not the Muggle kind," Harry laughed shortly, thinking what Snape would say if he heard he had been compared to a Muggle psychologist. "I'll be fine, really. I actually feel better this year than last. So don't worry."

Neville did not look quite convinced, but he changed the subject to what he hoped to study in Herbology and began naming off the plants he wanted to study. A few minutes later, Harry changed into his robes. Snape had made him wear his school uniform on the train, so all he had to do was pull his robes over his head. Neville went to change in the lavatory, and when he came back, Harry had to stifle a laugh.

"I know," Neville lamented, looking down at his robes. "They're too short. But my grandmother didn't have time to take me to get some more, so I'm wearing last year's. They're at least six inches too short, and my trousers show my socks. You think anyone will notice?"

Harry did not best to keep a straight face though his lips were twitching. "No, I don't think anyone will notice." And as long as the "anyone" didn't have eyes, they wouldn't notice.

The train pulled into the station, and Harry watched as the passageway was jammed with students trying to get off. He leaned back in his own seat and glanced out the window. Across the huge, black lake, he could see the castle looming, its windows shining with light.

"Aren't you getting off?" Neville asked anxiously, looking at the other students.

"We got time," Harry shrugged. "You know, they got to get those first years in the boats and that always takes forever. Let them get through, and they we'll go."

"Not true," said a soft voice.

Harry glanced to the glass door where the window had been slid down. Luna Lovegood stood in front of the door, looking down at Harry and Neville with her usual floaty expression.

"Hi, Luna," Neville said, and Harry nodded his greeting.

"You don't want to see the Thestrals," Luna remarked, blinking slowly. "You saw them last year because of Cedric. And you'll see them now because of Sirius Black. Or maybe because of Cedric still. It really doesn't matter."

"Luna!" Neville hissed, abandoning his normal awkwardness to glare at her quite sternly.

Harry had not even been thinking about the Thestrals, but he supposed she made sense. He had not liked them last year, and he had not even known what they were then.

"But you better come on," Luna said airily. "Because Professor Snape told the older Prefects to search the entire train to make sure no one was left behind."

Harry leapt to his feet. "Well, I guess we better go then." He stuffed the snitch in his pocket and headed for the door.

The three of them fought other students to get down the stairs, and everyone was milling about the station platform in the usual state of confusion and dismay. Older students were trying to talk to each other and find out which carriage they should ride in. Younger students were already missing their parents, and Harry saw one little boy who had his face buried in his hands to keep from crying. At one, Harry wanted to go to the small fellow and tell him that everything would be all right and maybe get to him to talk so he wouldn't feel so alone, but there were about fifty students in the way, and Harry could only watch sympathetically.

Then Hagrid stepped forward and began booming out for "First years! First years, right this way, an' don't upset the Thestrals, lovely creatures, don't ya know?"

The little boy disappeared, and Harry stepped back to wait his turn to get onto the carriage. Luna was talking about something to Neville, and Neville tried to pay attention as he struggled to keep hold of his toad. Trevor had slept for most of the trip, but he came awake fully on the platform, trying to squirm free. Harry didn't really understand why the toad always wanted to escape. Hedwig never wanted to get away from Harry; she seemed upset that he didn't visit her more often and often pecked him once to show her disapproval at his long absences. Maybe toads were different than owls, at least in regards to loyalty to their humans.

Most of the students had climbed into the huge carriages, and Harry was just stepping towards the last one when he saw Draco.

With Crabbe and Goyle at his side and a whole train of Slytherins behind him, Draco strutted almost to a middle carriage before he noticed Harry. He stopped still, and they just looked at each other. Harry could see Draco's face tingeing red and Harry felt sure his own was a bit pink, but he forced himself to glower at the other boy. Draco shot him an equally fierce stare, and his whole expression said, _"Just wait, Potter."_ Then Draco got into the carriage.

Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other, not sure exactly who Draco had seen. Harry wondered if they were near-sighted as well as thick before he felt Luna tug his arm to get into the last carriage.

It began to rain as the carriages rumbled towards the castle. Harry thought about the first years in the boat. Why did the first years have to go in the boat to begin with? They were probably tired and hungry and homesick. Why make them nervous on the water and cold and now wet, too? Maybe he should talk to Dumbledore . . .

Harry broke into a grin as he realized what he had just thought. He was going to start telling Dumbledore how to run his school? Oh, Snape would just love that. Harry could just imagine Snape's face if Harry marched into Dumbledore's private study and announced_, "I've got a idea about how this school should be run, and we're going to do things my way, starting with the way we get to Hogwarts."_ Snape would go ballistic.

"You seem happy," Luna noted, gazing over Harry's face.

"I am," he told her, schooling his face into a neutral expression. "I'm regularly happy."

"No, something happened to you over the summer," she decided. "Something hard and maybe sad, but something good in the end. You've changed."

"No, I haven't," he told her, looking away.

"You're very different," she sighed and settling back into her seat. "You either fell in love-"

Harry scoffed, making incredulous noise in the back of his throat.

"– Or you went on a great adventure through high mountains –" she continued dreamily.

"You're cracked," he muttered.

"– Or you found someone to take care of you," she gazed out the window into the darkening sky.

Harry started slightly, unnerved at her insight. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but he could not keep his voice level and calm.

She looked back at him. "Don't you?"

He shifted, wishing he could get away from her knowing eyes. "Can't this thing move any faster?" he muttered. "Slowest Thestrals in all of England probably."

------

The entrance hall was crowded with luggage and students trying to get into the Great Hall. Harry didn't understand why they put the trunks and bags and crates there in the front hall when the stuff was going up to the dormitories straight away. He realized as he followed Neville and Luna into the Great Hall and sat down that there was a lot about Hogwarts he didn't understand. Perhaps he wanted to make sense of everything when probably a lot of what was done at Hogwarts was time-honored tradition.

Harry smiled a little. Probably hanging around Snape all summer made him think in a strictly rational frame of mind, noticing things he had never noticed before. Was this how it felt to be in Snape's mind? Did Snape see all the goings and doings at Hogwarts and think it could be done better? After all, Snape was complaining about having careless children in his class and the rules not being enforced and –

"Harry? Harry!"

"Huh?" Harry looked up to see Hermione and Ron sitting across from him.

She smiled sweetly, her eyes warm and friendly. "Where were you?" she teased. "I've been talking to you, but you just sitting there with that glazed-over look on your face."

"That's how everyone gets when they listen to you," Ron muttered as he played with the edge of the table, running his finger back and forth.

"I heard that," Hermione snapped.

"Well, I said it loud," Ron retorted.

Harry tried to look interested in what they were saying though he couldn't figure out why they were fighting already. The meal hadn't even come yet. Maybe they were hungry.

"Greetings," Dumbledore stood up and looked over all of them.

Harry relaxed as he watched Dumbledore give the welcome to all the students. Something about Dumbledore always calmed Harry, something about the quiet power radiating from the man. It was a different feeling from being around Snape – Snape made Harry feel wanted, eager to please, active, and ready to help. Dumbledore made him feel calm and peaceful. Both feelings were nice, and Harry would have readily replied that he liked the Dumbledore feeling better except that he kind of liked the Snape feeling now a little more. It was nice to have someone accept you whatever you did, but it felt even better to have someone hold you accountable and be proud when you got something right.

"What are you smiling about?" Ron demanded in a hushed whisper. "He's talking about Professor Sprout being nearly eaten by her new plants."

"Oh, sorry," Harry immediately looked serious.

While Dumbledore continued, Harry looked at the teachers' table. Sprout was up there, looking a bit worn and pale alone with McGonagall, Hagrid, Flitwick and other teachers, but no Snape. Harry glanced around the room, wondering if Snape might be somewhere else in the room. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Let us start with the sorting," Dumbledore motioned towards the Sorting Hat.

The room fell very quiet as the Hat began to recite a very long poem.

Harry could barely sit still. He wanted to find Snape, not listen to some piece of clothing ramble on about reading people's thoughts. If the meal would just start, Harry could shovel down some food and then go look for Snape.

The Hat kept talking, and Harry could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. The Hat had never been one of his favorite things at Hogwarts – it had almost placed him in Slytherin, a fact now which Harry thought wouldn't have been so bad considering his adopted father belonged there, but the Hat had been so annoyingly arrogant_. "Oh, look at me!. I'm a magical hat, and I know where everyone belongs better than they do."_ Stupid Hat!

The dumb poem finally ended, and everyone clapped except Ron and Hermione. They were staring at Harry intently.

"What?" he asked, uncomfortable to have them looking like that.

"Why were you making faces while the Hat was reciting?" Ron asked slowly.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione inquired, her voice gentle.

"Sure," Harry shrugged off their concern. "It's just – ruddy Hat, you know?"

Ron looked back to the front where the sorting had begun, and Hermione gave Harry one last searching look before glancing away.

Harry didn't understand why he felt so restless. Usually, he enjoyed this part of the first supper, seeing everyone and getting back into old ways of things, but now he felt frantic to go find Snape.

The sorting seemed to drag out forever, each student inching their way up front and sitting on the stool much longer than they needed to in order to decide which house they should go into. The Hat was getting slower every year – time to replace it with something faster, like a glove that didn't talk or a neck tie or a broomstick. Yeah, a broomstick – you could take a ride, whizzing around the tall room of the Great Hall and it would decide which House to sort you into by the way you flew. Oh, but first years didn't know how to fly. Still, it would have been fun to watch.

Harry suddenly caught sight of the little boy he had seen crying. The boy got up on the stool, and McGonagall put the Hat on his head. The boy seemed awfully small for his age, brown hair around a pale face and blue eyes that looked overwhelmed by everyone watching him.

The Hat, in its usual fashion, took too long to decide before calling out "Slytherin!"

The Slytherins clapped, but the little boy got off the stool and went to the Slytherin table with his shoulders hunched over and his eyes on the floor. Once he got to the table, Harry saw him sit at the corner and try to look invisible by sitting low and keeping his head. No one seemed to talk to him.

"Sad," Hermione mused as the next child went up towards the Hat.

"What's sad?" Harry asked.

"That little boy," Hermione nodded towards the Slytherin table. "He sat all alone on the train. I tried to talk to him, but he kept shaking his head and wouldn't say anything."

Harry wanted to ask his name, but then the sorting was over, and Dumbledore stood up.

"You all must be wondering about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he commented, then smiled gently when most of the students nodded eagerly. "Our new teacher will be none other," and he paused for dramatic effect, "than Professor Snape."

A gasp rose from the students that soon swelled into avid conversation. Harry sat stone-still, wishing he could close his ears off and not hear what they were saying.

"This is awful," Ron said to Hermione. "Snape as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. We're dead."

"I don't know," Hermione shook her head doubtfully. "What can Dumbledore be thinking? Professor Snape is just – just wrong!"

Harry felt his cheeks growing hot, and he couldn't help glaring at his two best friends. A lot they knew – Snape was right all along – teenagers had no sense of good manners.

"Oh, no," Neville whispered, nearly paralyzed.

"What?" Harry demanded crossly.

"I've signed up for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Neville squeaked. "Dropped Potions, but not Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm dead – I'm just . . . dead."

"You are not," Harry snapped.

"Harry, it's all right," Hermione reached across the table to put her hand over Harry's. "We'll figure this out."

"Nothing to figure," Harry jerked his hand back. "You all don't understand Snape – he's not –"

"And please give a warm welcome to our new Potions teacher, Madame Moretta."

A tall, angular woman with dark hair and flashing green eyes walked up to the front. She was dressed in a long dress of deep red that clung to her slim body in just the right places, making her waist tiny and her hips sway as she walked. The neckline of her dress was cut in a V that went down almost too low, but was saved by a large silver brooch shaped like a dragon that covered the point of the V. She went to stand beside Dumbledore and turned to face them all.

"Good evening," she smiled, a smile that could be stern or cold, even cruel, but also pleased and eager. She was not a temptress per say, but she wasn't a normal teacher either. "I'm glad to meet you all," she continued in a voice that that vibrated with strength and confidence. "I look forward to working with you in groups and individually in class. Your headmaster has been kind enough to assign me to the Gryffindor for the first half of the fall term, but I promise I will spend time in the other three houses later on in the school year to assist in advising and learning outside of class time. Thank you."

She nodded her head forward in an almost-regal nod.

"Thank you, Madame Moretta," Dumbledore said. He began clapping his hands together and gave the students a look that said to applaud as well.

Harry didn't mind clapping, and everyone else did as well, but something about Madame Moretta stunned them. Harry wasn't sure what is was exactly – maybe after having Snape as a potions master this woman seemed so . . . different.

"Well," Ron leaned across the table, "she's . . . different."

"Yeah, different," Neville agreed.

Harry could only nod his agreement.

"You boys are disgusting," Hermione said in a very annoyed voice. "You should be worried what kind of teacher she will be. Professor Snape had his faults, to be sure –"

"Yeah, a right foul sodding git," Ron snorted. Harry glowered at him.

"But we learned a lot," Hermione persisted. "And I'm Snape will be – interesting in the other class as well. Oh, here's the food. Let's eat."

After the meal, during which Snape did not make an appearance, Harry headed out of the Great Hall, determined to go to the dungeons to look for him, if he had to.

"Where are you going?" Hermione inquired. "We need to go to the Gryffindor Common Room. It's late."

"Oh, you go on," Harry waved her away. "I'll be up in a little while."

"Harry, no!" Hermione caught his hand before he could pull away. "You are not going exploring the first night back. Everyone is confused and trying to settle in, and no teacher will have patience with you tonight if you caught wandering around."

"Yeah, another night," Ron said, stepping up on his other side.

They began walking towards the stairs, and Harry knew he couldn't get away. For him to leave them, he would have to tell them what had happened over the whole summer, and he wasn't ready, not just yet. Maybe after they had time to settle in, once school got underway, then he would tell them.

They all sat in the Gryffindor Common Room for the rest of the evening, talking as the candles burned low. As it got later, Hermione started herding students off to bed, starting with the first years. By the time she started on the third years, Harry's own eyes were drooping, and he got up on his own accord and mumbled "'Night."

"Don't go yet," Ron objected. "She isn't your mother."

"No, but I'm tired. See you in the morning, Hermione."

"'Night, Harry," Hermione smiled. "I'm glad we're all back."

The sixth year boys' dormitory looked just as Harry remembered – four-poster beds with maroon curtains. Neville was on his hands and knees, trying to coax Trevor to come out of one of the beds.

Harry changed into pajamas and got into bed as the other boys meandered in, still talking and laughing. Harry yawned as he lay down, slipping his hand under his pillow as he curled up on his side. Though he could not hear it, he could feel the pocketwatch in his hand under the pillow, the ticking beating out a steady rhythm. He could hear the other fellows talking, but he didn't care as he drifted off to sleep.

------

"Oh, no," Ron complained as he sat down to breakfast the next morning.

"What?" Harry asked around a mouthful of eggs. Breakfast was the most informal meal at Hogwarts; students could show up whenever they wanted for an hour, and teachers wandered in and out as well. Harry kept an eye on the teachers' table, but he had not seen Snape yet. Didn't the man ever eat? Or did he have food delivered to the dungeons? That was nice – snitching food on the side so he didn't have to eat in the Great Hall and see his adopted son.

"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing this morning," Ron groaned as he began reaching for toast and jam. "Snape for our first class – brilliant start to the year."

Hermione, usually the one person to find some good in teachers, said nothing as she spooned porridge onto her plate.

Yeah, Harry decided as he ate, definitely not the time to talk to them about getting adopted by the much loathed professor. After all, he did still want his friends to be alive and breathing after he told them.

After waiting impatient for them to finish breakfast (Honestly, did Hermione have to take such small bites, and when did Ron start eating so much?), they headed for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry wanted to run ahead and get to the classroom to see if he could catch Snape before class, but once again he couldn't think of a reason to head for class early. So, he slowed his pace to the crawl that Ron and Hermione set as they talked or rather argued about something to do with what Hermione wanted to study for next year.

Except for wanting to get to class, Harry enjoyed walking with them. It was nice how they fell back into their usual relationship so quickly, almost as if they had never been apart. Maybe that was the test of a great friendship – picking up as if they had never left off, always ready to share concerns and talk and just hang out –

"You're mental!" Ron nearly shouted. "All this over-obsessing about school!"

"You know nothing about the proper way to do things," Hermione retorted. "You just want to laze about and whine like a child."

"I am not a child," Ron growled.

"Then stop acting like one!"

"We're here," Harry interrupted, jerking his head towards the door of the classroom. He didn't think it would look too good to arrive with his best friends arguing.

"Where are you going, mate?" Ron hissed as they entered the classroom.

"To sit," Harry pointed to the desks.

"Up front?" Ron gave his a look of disbelief.

Harry shuffled, uncomfortably. "Yeah, we sit up front and – and then we can see if Snape is turning evil or getting pulled towards the dark side."

"Good plan," Ron nodded as they took the front desk on the right.

Harry waited nervously as the desks behind them began to fill. Harry looked around the class – would Snape miss his first class?

"Do you have to do that?" Ron asked bluntly.

"What?" Harry glanced at him.

"You're tapping your shoe against the leg of the desk," Ron pointed out. "A little annoying."

"Ron, he's just nervous," Hermione said, straightening up her copybook and quill pen on the space in front of her. "Professor Snape hasn't exactly been –"

"Shh," Ron warned. "Here he comes."

Harry looked up at Snape came through the doorway and shut the door behind him.


	2. A Class Act

AN: Hello, all. I just finished this and I've had way too much caffeine so there are probably mistakes my overly stimulated brain can't catch. I will try to correct them as soon as I come down off my high.

Hope you like this next chapter. I know I'm introducing a lot of new info and mysteries, but hang with me. I'm just getting started.

Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. I have read each and every one of them. I appreciate your feedback. Enjoy

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Harry felt himself relax, leaning back in his seat. For a moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to wave at Snape with a grin, just to let the man know that his adopted son was in class, ready to learn. Harry stopped himself just in time, realizing how incredibly stupid that would look if he did it. Come on – waving at Snape? Snape would give him detention for that alone.

"Good morning, class," Snape ran a stern eye over the entire class. "Mr. Malfoy, please take a seat so we can begin."

Harry glanced back over his shoulder where he saw Draco saunter into the room, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. Draco came all the way to front and took the long desk opposite Harry's. Draco gave Harry a "What are you going to do about it?" look as Crabbe and Goyle sat down beside him.

Harry rolled his eyes as he faced the front of the class. Snape was looking at him. To everyone else, Snape probably looked his usual stern self, but Harry knew that look. Behave or else.

Harry folded his hands in his lap and smiled sweetly, giving Snape his best angelic expression. It was one he knew Snape disliked because Snape thought he was up to trouble when Harry looked so blissfully good.

"As I was saying," Snape said in a tight voice, "we begin your first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson as Sixth Year students."

Hermione sat up very straight, her eyes glued to Snape, listening attentively. Ron lolled back in his seat and looked bored.

"My teaching methods will be different from those as your Potions master," Snape continued, glaring at the whole class as if he held them responsible for some sin they had ignorantly committed. "I suspect you feel as you must start over entirely every year with a new professor. You have had professors sadly lacking in talent and teaching ability. The professor last year needs no comment – her incompetence shows in the attitude many of you show towards the Dark Arts. Gilderoy Lockhart still remains in St. Mungo's, eager to sign autographs, I'm told. Quirrell is dead, Alaster Moody was an imposter, and Remus Lupin did not have the capability to teach his class successfully, either."

"Hey, Lupin was a good teacher!" Harry protested. He didn't even realize that he had spoken out loud until he heard the gasps of students around him. He realized they were all staring at him, Hermione shaking her head disapprovingly. He raised his eyes up to Snape's cold gaze and then muttered, "Sorry."

"Mr. Potter," Snape observed, crossing his arms. "Already disrupting my class. We aren't even four minutes into our first lesson, and you are trying to earn detention. Please, stand up and tell us all what you think of Remus Lupin."

"That's okay," Harry said, trying to silently communicate to Snape that he didn't mean to interrupt.

But Snape continued to stare at him coldly. "No, Mr. Potter, stand up. Tell us all what you think since we must acknowledge our famed hero and his very important opinion."

Harry rose slowly, his cheeks turning red. He couldn't believe that Snape was treating him like . . . like the summer hadn't existed at all. Like they hadn't reached a good agreement in the two months they spent together. Like Snape hadn't adopted him or told him that he would always lo-

"We're waiting, Mr. Potter," Snape said coldly.

Harry looked around. The class looked divided between laughing at him and embarrassed for him. Since the class was only Slytherin and Gryffindors, Harry pretty much expected that.

He was going to have to say something – Snape wouldn't let him sit down until he said something.

"I-I thought Lupin was a good teacher," Harry explained, looking down at his desk. "He knew a lot about stuff."

"Once again," Snape droned in a bored voice, "Mr. Potter has demonstrated that a hero complex does not necessitate good communication skills. He seems satisfied with blurting whatever comes into his head with the attention span of a four-year-old. Sit down, Potter."

The room filled with stifled giggles, Harry dropped back in his seat, feeling like he had just swallowed a lump of lead. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look, but Ron shook his head as if to say _"What were you thinking?"_

"We will be using the Sixth Year standard textbook," Snape held up the thick volume for the class to see. "While we will sometimes vary our studies to include creatures and spells outside this book, it is vital that you all have a copy. Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville, on the back row of the class, jumped. He knocked his book bag off the desk, and most of the class smiled as they watched him hurry to put it up on the desk again.

"As you can see," Snape commented, "Mr. Longbottom has acquired a new height of gracefulness. After last year's clumsiness, I was sure he could not act like a bigger dolt, but he surprises me once again."

The Slytherins laughed at poor Neville, but Harry cross his arms and glared up at Snape. This was not at all what he had been expecting when they returned to Hogwarts.

"Mr. Longbottom, you made high enough scores on your O.W.L.s to attend this class?" Snape asked, pretending to look amazed. "I require at least an E."

"Y-yes, sir," Neville stammered, turning red. "I did."

"Really?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "You must have shown more competency in Defense Against the Dark Arts than you did in Potions. In Potions, you had trouble reading the list of ingredients in the correct order. Are you sure you got an E?"

"Yes, sir," Neville said again, looking a little sick.

"A whole E?" Snape continued, looking very pleased with himself. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yeah!" Harry couldn't stop himself. "He got an E, okay?"

The room fell deathly quiet. Snape walked slowly over to Harry's desk and stood there.

"You're dead," Ron said under his breath.

"I did not ask for your opinion, Mr. Weasley," Snape said without looking away from Harry. "Though I happen to agree entirely. Mr. Potter, that was your second outburst in my class. Are you aiming for a new record, or do you wish to annoy me so early in the school year?"

Harry raised rebellious eyes up to Snape. So Snape wanted to be like that? Two could play at this game. "Annoy you," Harry replied smartly. "How am I doing so far?"

The whole class did not make a sound. Draco was leaning over the side of his desk, grinning like an idiot as he waited for Snape to come down on Harry.

"Congratulation, Mr. Potter," Snape said in his darkly silky voice, "you finally succeeded in doing something right. You've just earned yourself detention tonight. Seven o'clock. my office."

Harry felt slightly deflated. He knew Snape was going to give him detention, but something about the man's coldness, the ugly look in his eyes, made Harry want to stalk out of the classroom and not come back.

Without another word to him, Snape began the lesson, lecturing about the different defenses they would study over the next year. Hermione began dutifully taking notes, and Harry pulled out his own copybook to jot down a few things. He didn't really feel like writing, but he made himself copy a few lines. Usually, he and Ron would use their copybooks to write notes back and forth to each other, Harry jotting down something in his book, then Ron replying on his, and Harry answering back. It was fun to read the books later because they each recorded one side of the conversation. But they were careful to keep the copybooks from Hermione; she would not have approved. Yet, Harry did not feel like writing to Ron now. For one thing, he had nothing pleasant he wanted to say, and he doubted that Snape would like him writing cuss words in his class, the slimy prat!

So Harry sat, silently seething until the class ended. And then he snatched up his book bag and bolted from the room without a look back.

"What was that?" Hermione demanded, running to catch up with Harry as he stormed down the hallway.

"Nothing," Harry snarled.

"Slow down," Ron urged as he tried to keep up. "We're not in a race."

"Harry, what were you thinking?" Hermione demanded, keeping up his mad pace as Ron huffed behind. "You must have known Snape wouldn't like you talking like that."

"Yeah, well, Snape doesn't like anything," Harry growled. He swung around a corner, heading for their Potions class down in the dungeons.

"So?" Hermione asked, bewildered. "Snape has always been like that."

"I've had enough of it," Harry went down the stairs so fast he nearly fell. But he kept going, stalking into the Potions classroom and flinging himself into a chair.

"Harry, don't let him get to you," Hermione admonished, sitting down beside him.

"Right," Ron panted as he sat down as well, letting his book bag tumble to the ground. "Sn-Snape's just like th-that."

"Maybe," Harry growled. "But it's going to change."

"Do not do anything to aggravate him tonight," Hermione pointed a finger at Harry. "You show up and be all 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir.' You don't want Snape angry at you this early."

"He'll have plenty of time to get onto you later," Ron added, finally catching his breath.

"Harry," Hermione warned, not sure that he had listened.

"Yeah, I get it," Harry snapped. "I'll be good."

Other students started milling in. Neville came to sit behind them, but when Harry looked back at him, Neville looked away. Apparently, Neville was not ready to let the embarrassment from Snape go.

So now Neville was cross at him. Terrific. Everyone upset with Harry when Snape was the one to blame. Well, there would be one Potions-master-turned-Defense-against-the-Dark-Arts-professor who would get an earful that evening.

Harry sat, half-sulking, half-sneering, until Madame Moretta came in. She wore a black dress that made her complexion seem even paler, and she walked to the front of the class with a regal, proud manner. She did not face them, even as the last of the students came trailing in.

She lifted her wand and pointed it at the chalk lying at the corner of the board chalkboard. The chalk rose in the air and began writing in large, elegant letters_. Madame Moretta_, it wrote, _Potions, Sixth Year._

All the students had arrived, this time the Gryffindors with the Ravenclaws. But they got into their desks quietly and waited for her to begin. After Umbridge last year, any new woman professor did not seem promising to any Hogwarts student. Harry reflected, as he watched the chalk write, that they had all suffered through Umbridge's torturous detentions and endless rules. School had become nightmare for some of them; others, merely a drudge.

"Good morning," Madame Moretta turned to face the class. "The seats you are in will be your permanent seat until Christmas. I will not have students moving around randomly. I hope you chose wisely today. I am Madame Moretta, and you will address me as such with the proper respect. I have heard from your previous professor that some of you do not show Potions as much respect as you could."

Her gaze settled on Harry for a second.

_Snape, you bastard_, Harry thought angrily. It was just like him to poison the new professor against him before classes even started.

"But I'm sure that will all change," Moretta continued. "I know Professor Snape had higher qualifications as to whom he let take his Sixth Year class. I have allowed some of you in," again she looked at Harry, "because I believe every student should be allowed to study whatever subject he or she feels led to study. That being said, I will hold every single one of you to higher standard of behavior and academic excellence. There will be no lolling about in my class, no talking out of turn, no passing notes, no whispering while I am talking, no chewing gum, Seamus."

Seamus froze and quietly took the gum out of his mouth. Harry shook his head; he had forgotten about Seamus always chewing gum.

"No late assignments turned in," Moretta continued sternly, "no cheating, and no sloppy work. Am I understood?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, almost eagerly. She looked delighted to have found a teacher than took studying as seriously as she did.

"Thank you, Hermione," Moretta smiled. Then she blinked, and her face went stern again, a cold mask back in place. "As Miss Granger has demonstrated a keen understanding as to what I expect, I will ask her to start a sheet for you all to write your names down so I will learn them. For today, we are going to start with antidotes for usual poisons."

Harry waited until the sheet came to him and he jotted his name under Ron and Hermione's.

The class went on without anything unusual happening. Moretta remained strict and almost hard until the end.

"And that concludes class for today," she said, closing her copy of the textbook. "Please read Chapter 2 for our next class on Wednesday. There will be a quiz."

Hermione smiled as she loaded up her books.

"Look, Harry," Ron noted. "I think Hermione's found her twin."

"Oh, hush," she told him in a whisper. "I think Madame Moretta is going to be exactly what this class needs – very firm discipline and structure."

"Yeah, because Snape was so easy on us," Ron quipped.

"You would have us not learn a thing," Hermione snapped at him as she headed for the door.

"Wait . . . ah, Mr. Potter," Madame Moretta called out. "I need to speak to you."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, but they kept on walking, giving him uneasy looks as they left the classroom. A few students were still about, mostly packing up their books, but Harry walked the few steps up to the front of the class.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked respectfully. Really, it didn't make good sense to have two teachers upset with him on the first day.

Madame Moretta stepped forward, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder. But she stepped past him to the chalkboard where she directed her wand to erase the board. "This will be a very difficult year for you," she said in a strained voice.

"I suppose," Harry answered slowly, not sure what she was talking about.

"You will need to train, to practice, if you plan to succeed," she said calmly, still facing the board.

Harry blinked. Was she talking about Voldemort?

"I plan to help you in that training," Moretta continued, her voice frigid but too low for anyone other than Harry to hear. "Saturday night, you and I will practice, starting at nine p.m. You will meet me at the door of my classroom. Wear your Invisibility Cloak. And tell no one else."

She turned to face him, and Harry stared at her proud, chiseled face.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," she said in a louder voice. "That will be all."

And Harry found himself heading for the hall.

------

But of course, he told Ron and Hermione as soon as he sat down to lunch. Snape was at the teachers' table, but Harry tried to ignore him as he told his two friends what had happened.

"She's mental!" Ron exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "What does she want you sneaking around for? Don't do it. Right, Hermione?"

"I don't know," Hermione looked doubtful, yet very concerned. "It sounds very suspicious. But I wonder more about how she knew you had the Cloak. I thought only Dumbleore knew that."

"It doesn't add up," Harry pressed on, feeling uneasy that Snape might be watching. The man couldn't hear from where he sat, but knowing Snape he probably had ways of listening to everything. "Something is wrong about her."

"It's still early to say that," Hermione objected, though she did not look convinced herself.

"The whole signing our names thing," Harry reminded her. "She already knew our names. She called you and Seamus before she even started the sheet."

"Maybe she didn't know everyone," Hermione protested weakly.

"And she called you by your first names," Ron noted. "No teacher has ever done that. I don't think some of them even know our first names."

"And I could swear for a moment there she almost called out _Harry_ instead of _Mr. Potter_," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Do either of you know who she is?" Harry asked anxiously. "Ever heard of her before she came here?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "but I can do some research into it."

"I think the main question is 'Is she on our side?'" Ron pointed out. "Because if she is, who cares who she really is. And if she isn't . . ." he trailed off awkwardly.

"So I should go Saturday night/" Harry looked back and forth between his friends.

Hermione hesitated then gave a quick nod. "Yes, but be careful."

"And take your wand," Ron advised.

Harry nodded with them and then started eating. He glanced up at the teachers' table, but Snape had already left.

Harry next looked at the Slytherin table, wondering if he would see the little boy who had been crying, but he wasn't there either.

Well, he just had to make it through the next few classes and supper tonight, and then he could go see Snape and get some answers.

------

"What was that about?" Harry demanded as he stormed into Snape's office, not bothering to knock. He closed the door behind him and stalked farther into the room.

Snape sat at his desk, looking over papers. He looked up with a frown.

"I expect you to knock. Show some manners for once, please."

"Oh, shut up," Harry threw himself in a nearby chair.

Snape looked up from his papers and ominously turned towards Harry. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Harry retorted. "Thanks a lot for humiliating me in class. Getting your fun in early this year. Trying to see how many times you can embarrass me, make me look like a fool?"

"If you're referring to my treatment of you in class today," Snape said sternly, "I was perfectly content to treat you as one of the class until you started giving your opinion. What were you thinking, Harry?"

The sound of his name helped take the edge of Harry's worry, but he still felt out of sorts. "What was I thinking? You were the one all . . . all drunk on power."

Snape smiled suddenly, making him look much friendlier, like the man Harry had come to know over the summer. "'Drunk on power?' What are you now – a novelist?"

"You know what I mean," Harry said crossly. "You enjoyed humiliating me in front of the class."

"It was an act," Snape told him. "You knew that. I told you we would have to hide the whole adoption and what happened this summer. Were you listening?"

"Yeah, but –"

"Then you must have known that I couldn't let your outbursts just go," Snape continued. "The class would have known something was different if you started mouthing off in my class and I did nothing. The first outburst was nice though I would have appreciated a chance to address the class for the first time before staging our act, but I guess you were anxious to get it over with. The second outburst was pushing it, Harry. No need to overkill. I would have found a reason to give you detention during the class without you inviting it. Next time, let me handle it – you tend to be a bit dramatic, nearly hysterical, when you try to pretend. But it was admirable, for your first time acting."

Harry didn't know what to say so he nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that's what I was . . . aiming for, you know."

"The yelling coming in sounded authentic as well," Snape noted, "but knocking first might make it a bit more believable to anyone listening in the hallway."

"Oh, sorry," Harry shrugged, not sure what to say.

"For someone that lies out of necessity and habit, you seem to have trouble acting with someone else," Snape remarked as he picked up his papers. "Hard to do a two-man show? Always wanting center stage, aren't you?"

Ten minutes ago, Snape's comment would have had Harry spitting nails. But now Harry just smiled and waved a hand towards Snape. "Go away."

Snape smiled wryly. "Ah, the old cheeky attitude. And here I thought you might go a day without it."

"And disappoint you?" Harry grinned. "Never!"

"I even went overboard with yelling at Neville," Snape admitted. "'Are you sure you got an E?' I was sure you would burst out laughing at such a feeble attempt to be cold and cruel. I expected any minute you would turn to me and say, 'Seriously? That's the best you can do?' And then the jig would be up."

"Oh, no," Harry tried to look cool and nonchalant. "I knew the whole time, but I didn't want to give you away."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds. Then Harry ventured, "So if you're going to be acting from now on, how will I know when you're serious?"

"Believe me, Harry," Snape gave him a significant look as he stood up from his desk, "you'll know."

"Wouldn't count on it," Harry muttered under his breath.

Snape did not hear as he opened the drawers on a nearby bureau.

"Well, glad that's taken care of," Harry slouched back in his chair and propped his feet up on the seat of another chair.

"Shoes off the furniture," Snape told him.

Harry shifted until just his ankles were on the corner of the seat before leaning back and closing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"The detention was a joke," Harry replied, not opening his eyes. "It wasn't real, so I don't have to do anything."

"What about working for me?" Snape asked. "Your allowance, remember?"

"Aw," Harry sat up with a grimace, pulling his feet off the chair, "I have to work today? First day of classes, and you're making me work?"

"Start out on the right foot," Snape told him. He came to Harry and dropped a stack of papers in his lap.

"Ow!" Harry complained as the papers hit his knees. He caught them before they could slide off to the floor. "What's this?"

"Last year's tests that need to be filed away," Snape told him. "Madame Moretta might want to glance over them."

"I don't trust her," Harry declared. "She's too . . . smooth and silky. She could talk her way out of everything."

For a moment, Harry thought he saw Snape smirk, but the next moment the man was back to his usual seriousness. "Divide the tests up by year, one through seven, and put them in seven different stacks. They're all mixed together so pay attention to the top of the first page that says which year it's for."

Harry thought about telling Snape what Moretta had told him, telling Snape what she wanted him to do. But Harry hesitated. Either Snape would tell him that he was being paranoid, or Snape would want to get involved. And Harry wasn't sure he wanted Snape interfering, especially since Harry didn't really know what Moretta was planning. Better to wait until he had more information. And he had at least another class with her before Saturday; Harry might know more then.

He picked up the first teat, which happened to be Draco's. It said Fifth Year at the top, and Harry was about to place it on Snape's desk to start the first pile when he hesitated. Snape wrote the grade on the last page, and as this test was three pages long Harry's could not see what Draco had made. Very slowly, he lifted the first two pages, just wanting a quick peek at the last page.

"No," Snape told his firmly, "you're not going to start looking at other students' grades. Just sort them."

"Oh, come on," Harry complained, still lifting the pages. "It's Draco. How bad could he have done? A P? Draco made a sodding P?"

"Language," Snape disapproved as he yanked the test out of Harry's hand. "And I told you not to look. Am I going to have to spank you on the first day of classes?"

That sobered Harry right up. "No, sir," he said quietly, "I won't look anymore. But a P? For Draco? I thought he was good at Potions."

"He is," Snape replied, siting back down. "But he refuses to apply himself at times, and I have to mark him down to get him to focus better. Now stop talking and no more looking at grades."

For the next hour, they sat together, both working in warm, friendly silence.


	3. Meeting Worty

An: Finally another chapter. Sorry you had to wait so long.

Disclaimer: Never owned or will, it's looking like.

Thanks for reading and thanks for the awesome reviews. You all rock!

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Harry found himself yawning as he pushed open the door to his shared dormitory. It was past ten, almost eleven, and he thought he would try to get a good night's sleep before the second day of classes began.

Ron was sitting on his bed, talking to Seamus about Quidditch when Harry entered. Neville was still in the bathroom down the hall; Harry could hear him banging around while trying not to step on his toad. Trevor loved the water, but he liked to sit right over the drain so Neville nearly stepped on him every time he took a shower. Dean was nowhere to be seen, probably still goofing off in the common room.

"Hey," Harry nodded towards them as he headed for the hook where he hung his pajamas.

"Was it bad?" Ron asked, wincing sympathetically.

"What?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"Detention?" Seamus raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, we figured Snape lit right into you the moment you walked in," Ron agreed.

"He did not! He only spa –" Harry stopped himself just in time. He blushed to the roots of his hair, realizing he had almost shared the horribly embarrassing way Snape now punished him. "I mean, he just had me do a few chores around the dungeon."

Harry reached for his pajamas, hoping if he looked away they wouldn't suspect anything.

"Weird having Snape teach Defense," Ron nodded. "And he seemed different – with you at least."

"What do you mean?" Harry still faced the wall. He pretended to fumble with his pajamas, an act that was partly true because he couldn't seem to unbutton them with his fumbling fingers.

"Your outburst in class," Ron reminded him. "I mean, any other time Snape would have been furious. He'd have given you detention, sure, but he'd have insulted you in class, called you arrogant and dumb and the whole hero bit. He's changed."

"Maybe he fell in love this summer," Seamus suggested. He and Ron looked at each other and then burst into laughter.

"Hey, that's not funny," Harry protested.

"Snape in love? Yeah, it is," Seamus chortled.

"Who could love him?" Ron laughed.

Harry wanted to tell them that they didn't know what they were talking about, that they should just shut up, but he couldn't see a way to do that without looking suspicious.

"I don't care," he shrugged. "I'm going to bed."

Ron blinked, thrown off by Harry's cool dismissal. "Oh, right. Guess it is late."

Pajamas on, Harry got into bed and immediately rolled on his side. Usually, he liked to lie awake in bed in his dormitory. Though the walls were thick, he could hear other students heading off to bed. The furnace in the middle of the room was charmed to turn on if the room got to cold, and on frosty nights, Harry would hear it come on and turn the room toasty warm. But tonight he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. He didn't even look up when a wet Neville came in with his toad, complaining, "I nearly crushed him again!"

------

Lessons went smoothly the next day, partly (Harry suspected) because he did not have Madame Moretta or Snape for class. He saw them both at breakfast. Madame Moretta nodded coldly at him, her eyes flashing, but Snape ignored him. Harry sat down at his table. Not too many students were up so Snape had a clear view of Harry's table.

Harry made a deliberate mess at the table, sloshing his juice on the table, littering breadcrumbs, and eating eggs with his hands. He hoped to annoy Snape, but he only succeeded in disgusting Hermione.

"We're at the table," she told him primly, handing him a napkin. "Do you have to act like it's a pigsty? Honestly, Harry, Ron is rubbing off on you."

"Hey!" Ron objected, spraying the table with crumbs.

She rolled her eyes at both of them and huffed as she ate her own breakfast with excruciating manners.

Harry had Transfiguration, Charms, and History of Magic that day. He was glad to see McGonagall and Flitwick who both seemed pleased to have him back in their classes. History of Magic was boring, but Harry knew Aurors had to have it in order to attend advance classes after Hogwarts. After talking with Snape all summer, Harry felt unsure about the Auror program, but that's what he had wanted to do before he left Hogwarts last year so he went ahead to the classes.

He had some free time in the afternoon before supper and he spent the time walking around the grounds and visiting Hagrid's hut. Hagrid was a little miffed that Harry had not signed up for Care of Magical Creatures. Neither had Ron or Hermione, but Harry was alone in bearing the guilt.

"Sorry, Hagrid," he said as he sat down at the huge table and Fang nuzzled against his knee. "But sixth year, and I'm working on getting into the Auror program so, you know . . ."

"Bah," Hagrid growled as he removed a boiling teakettle from the fire, "plenty of Aurors keep magical pets. Could come right handy when yer dealing with dragons."

"Yes, but I couldn't work it into my schedule," Harry said, praying Hagrid wouldn't ask what class he took instead of Magical Creatures. "But I know you'll have a bunch of new first years that have never taken it before so you can start fresh with them, eh?"

Hagrid considered it, then he smiled. "S'pose so. Now, how about some tea and cakes. You look a mite bit healthier than last year, but it'll be good to get some food an' drink into ya. Oh, it's no trouble at'll. You sit right there and no leaving until you finish."

Harry tasted the bitter tea put before him and tried not to spit it out.

"Sugar?" Hagrid dropped ten brown cubes of crusted sugar into Harry's cup. Then he reached for the plate of teacakes which look like something between dogfood and week-old cinnamon buns. Hagrid tipped the plate, and three caked roundes off and hit Harry's plate, bouncing like rocks before thumping still on the chipped plate.

"Oh, really, I couldn't eat this much," Harry began, but Hagrid waved him off.

"Nonsense, growin' boy like you needs good food. You just take yer time, and don't be shy about asking for seconds."

As Hagrid began fixing his own cup, Harry picked up a teacake. It felt like a heavy stone in his hand, and he thought it would hurt if he threw it hard enough at someone. He tried to break it in half, even cracked it on the side of the table. It did not break though the table splintered a little. He offered the teacake down to Fang while Hagrid's back was turned. The dog sniffed it, then turned away.

Sighing, Harry stuck his tongue out and began licking the cake. It was too sweet, but when he took a sip of tea, the cake paled in comparison to the sweetness of the tea. Death by sugar – that would be fun.

The door to Hagrid's hut swung open. Harry cast a casual glance towards it, not really caring who had come to see Hagrid.

Snape walked in the door, shutting it behind him.

Harry nearly choked on his tea and hastily set the cup down.

"What are you doing here?" Snape asked, frowning the least bit.

"I was just –" Harry motioned towards Hagrid and the food in front of him.

"He stopped by fer a talk," Hagrid said gruffly. "Harry's always welcome fer chat and a cup o' tea. Sit down and I'll fetch ye some as well."

"I really must object," Snape said icily. But he came farther in the hut and took a seat beside Harry in a worn chair. "Have enough sugar there?" Snape asked Harry as Hagrid poured more water into the kettle.

"Absolutely," Harry licked the teacake and tried to look like it tasted delicious instead of stale and awful.

Snape made a disgusted face before turning to Hagrid. "I did not come to poison myself with exorbitant amounts of sugar."

"Right," Hagrid hung the kettle on the hook over the fire. "But Harry just arrived."

"And he better get back to his studies," Snape said darkly.

So they were going to talk about something that Harry wasn't supposed to hear. Or they were going to discuss him. Well, bully that!

"I'm fine," Harry smiled sweetly. "Don't have anything until supper in an hour."

"Then you don't want to spoil it," Snape told him. "Out."

Harry glanced towards Hagrid, but the half-giant looked guilty. "Best go, Harry," Hagrid nodded towards the door.

"Fine," Harry stood. "See you both at supper."

He walked out the door and shut it. He walked loudly on the path, nearly stomping his shoes on the stones. Then he treaded softly on the grass around the side of the hut. He could listen in at the backdoor for a while. He rounded the hut and –

Snape stood in front of the backdoor. His arms were crossed, and his lips pressed into a small line.

"Oh," Harry said after he nearly fell over in shock, "oh, I was just coming back to – to –"

"Lie to me now, and I will take you inside for a very long spanking," Snape threatened.

"I was going to listen at the door," Harry admitted, shamefaced.

"Thank you."

"But why can't I hear?" Harry objected. "This summer, you said I should get to know about stuff because I'm older."

"I did not," Snape replied crossly. "I said you should act better because you're older. There are still things adults will discuss that you will not be privy to. And there are some things adults want to discuss without nosy teenagers listening at the keyholes. Now off with you."

Snape reached out and whirled Harry to face the castle. Snape gave him one very hard swat across the rear.

"Ow!" Harry complained.

"That was for your atrocious table manners this morning," Snape told him. "Stop behaving like a child. Go."

"Right," Harry grumbled as he trudged across the grass. "I'm too young to know anything, but I should stop acting like a child. Maybe someone should remove the poker from –"

"I can still hear you," Snape bellowed from the back of the hut.

Harry began to walk quicker, deciding that it wasn't worth getting swat again for back-talking.

------

That evening after supper Harry found himself wandering the halls of Hogwarts. He hung around the library for an hour until Hermione told him to find something to read and stop talking to her. So Harry began walking slowly up on corridor and down another. He supposed he could go find Snape and drum up something to do. But he knew Snape would put him to work, and after being so frigid that afternoon, Harry thought he would leave Snape alone and see how he liked being ignored. Of course, knowing Snape, the man would probably get a ton of things done and owe it all to Harry not being there.

It was very late, nearly time for the late curfew bell when Harry rounded a bend in the hall and found himself looking out of one of the tallest windows in the castle. The landscape lay in darkness as clouds covered the moon, but Harry stared out into the inky night, not really thinking but just looking.

He heard a scuffling sound behind him. He turned to find the small boy from Slytherin cowering against the wall.

"Hey," Harry smiled, approaching the boy. Finally, he would get to meet the child.

The little boy looked up at him with terrified. He could have passed for an eight-year-old he was so tiny, and his brown hair hung over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. He had been crying by the redness around his eyes, but Harry came near, the boy crushed himself against the wall.

"No, don't touch me," he wailed.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, immediately worried.

"I don't want to die," the boy cried, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Die?" Harry swallowed. He began to think of all the bad fortune that followed him around, but he was surprised that the child could put it all together at his age and decide Harry was a threat.

"Yes," the boy nodded, smearing tears onto the knees of his trousers. "An older boy in my house told me that whoever you touch got marked, too," the boy pointed to Harry's scar, "and then they would die. He said fires come out of the scar and burns you until you die."

"I'm going to kill Malfoy," Harry shook his head.

"I think they called him Draco," the boy said timidly, still brushing away tears.

"That's him," Harry sighed. He sat down beside the boy, careful not to touch him and scare him away. "You shouldn't believe everything people tell you. Draco Malfoy was just teasing – I can't kill anyone. I mean, I might could, but not with my scar. Draco and I are – er, archenemies. But in a good way. You know, playing pranks on each other and getting into trouble and all that fun stuff. In fact, you want to know a secret about him?"

The boy still looked scared, but he nodded.

Harry searched for something mean to say about Draco. "He – uh, he still sleeps with a teddy-bear." He waited to see if the kid would believe him.

"Really?" the boy's eyes widened.

"Oh, yeah," Harry grinned. "And it's pink and soft, and he calls it Cuddles. Sometimes he holds it and sucks his thumb when he thinks nobody's watching."

The boy laughed, smiling through the remaining tears.

"I'm Harry, by the way," Harry offered.

"Yes, Harry Potter," the little boy nodded.

"I see my scar precedes me," Harry teased. The little boy wasn't old enough to understand the reference so Harry continued, "Do you have a name?"

"Yes," the boy nodded again, "Wentworth Melton Brintmortly Commultington."

Harry lifted his eyebrows at the long name.

"But you can call me Worty," the boy went on.

Harry laughed. "Sure. I would hate to run around yelling _Wentworth_ _Melton_ and the rest every time I wanted to see you."

"I was eight before I could spell my own name," Worty confided. "My nanny worked with me everyday to get it right."

"Oh, you had a nanny?" Harry asked, unsure what else to say.

"Yes, Mum and Dad were very busy. And then they –" but Worty lowered his head and refused to say anything else.

"My parents died when I was little," Harry said. "I never knew them, though I see them in pictures. I used to live with an aunt and uncle until I came to Hogwarts. And then this past summer I lived with . . ." Harry trailed off, not wanting to mention Snape.

"Who?" Worty looked up, his blue eyes peering up into Harry's.

"Someone else," Harry brushed it off. "He was kind of like an uncle. He was really strict and always yelling at me, but –"

"I know," Worty nodded. "My nanny was like that, always scolding, but I miss her a lot."

Harry tried not to smile as he wondered what Snape might say at being compared to a fussy nanny.

"Will you see your uncle again?" Worty asked.

Harry smiled. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be about. But why are you all the way up here?"

"A girl from Ravenclaw said she was going to tell my head of house that I had snuck in a bag of dungbombs. I hadn't, but she had, and she wanted to blame me. I thought if I hid I wouldn't get in trouble. Professor Snape looks scary and I don't want him to get angry at me."

"Oh, he's not so bad once you get to know him," Harry shrugged. He stood up and Worty reluctantly got to his feet.

The little boy's head only came to Harry's chest, and Harry impulsively asked, "Do you want a piggy-back ride downstairs?"

Worty set his teeth bravely and reached out to touch Harry's arm. Then Worty touched his own forehead, feeling for a scar.

"Satisfied?" Harry asked with a slight grin.

"All right," Worty agreed. "But promise not to drop me."

He stood up on a chair and Harry turned his back so the little boy could jump on. He felt Worty's hands on his shoulders and then the boy was on his back. He wasn't too heavy, and Harry hoped that was because he himself had grown over the summer and not because Worty was tiny.

"Ready?" Harry asked. He felt Worty's hands tighten on his shoulders, clutching at the edge of his collarbone. Then Harry started off at a run.

Worty squealed and clung tighter. Harry started to gain speed until he was at a flat out run. He slowed a little at the staircases, guessing no one would be happy if he and Worty tumbled to the bottom because Harry was running down stairs with a kid on his back.

"You're fast!" Worty yelled at one point during a sprint down a hall.

"You should see me on a broom," Harry told him.

"Draco said he was the fastest," Worty said, a little uneasy.

"I can run faster than Draco can fly," Harry snorted. That answer seemed to please Worty and he hung on, enjoying the ride.

"I'll take you down to the dungeon," Harry said as they reached the main floor. They had taken smaller staircases to avoid the grand staircase and so far no one had seen them.

"How do you know the way?" Worty asked. "Draco said only Slytherins know the way to our rooms, and you sit at another table."

"Once you've been here long enough, you know where everything is," Harry confided. "And you better not listen to everything Draco says or your hair will turn white-blond like his." Worty giggled, and Harry put his last bit of strength into running the last hallway to the dungeons. He spun around a corner and then jerked to a stop to keep from colliding into Snape. Had Harry taken the corner any faster he might have plowed Snape down, but he managed to stop without falling forward or tumbling backwards and crushing Worty.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape said in a cold voice. "And Mr. Commultington?"

Harry felt Worty's grip tighten in fear, but Harry smiled bashfully at Snape. "Sorry, Sna – er, Professor. I was giving Worty a lift here."

"Did neither of you hear the curfew bell?" Snape asked in a clipped tone.

"No," Harry admitted when he realized that Worty was not going to say anything. "Sorry, we were – uh, wandering around the castle."

"And do you make it a habit to take first-year students around the castle last at night, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry said quietly. He leaned to the side and Worty slipped off.

"To your dormitory and straight to bed," Snape directed the little boy.

Worty gave Harry a worried look before hurrying off.

"Snape, I wasn't –" Harry began, but Snape cut him off.

"Into my office, Mr. Potter," Snape pointed down the hall.

Harry blinked and then trudged towards Snape's office. He entered and waited for Snape to close the door behind him before saying, "Look, I really didn't hear the bell. And I didn't take him anywhere. I found him crying up in one of the towers."

"And what were you doing wandering around?" Snape asked crossly as he sat in one of his armchairs. A tea-set sat on the table to Snape's right, and Harry recognized the yellow teacup he had used at Snapdragon Manor. He sat down in the chair in front of Snape, hoping to be given a cup.

"It wasn't that late," Harry protested. "I was in the library until Hermione kicked me out, and I couldn't find Ron, and students can walk around the castle as long as they don't go into forbidden rooms."

"Though it's never stopped you," Snape grumbled as he poured hot tea into the yellow cup and handed it to Harry. "And don't spill it."

"Thanks," Harry held the saucer, careful not to tip the cup.

"I suppose you'll want a biscuit," Snape sighed as he reached for the plate of plain biscuits that Harry loved.

But Harry had enough of being treated like a child, and he replied stiffly, "No thank you, I don't want one."

"Take a biscuit and stop fooling around," Snape ordered, nearly shoving the plate at him. "You'll be snitching them all night when you think I'm not looking, and then I'll have to be cross with you. Eat one now and save me the bother."

Harry took two, looking pointedly at Snape, and proceeded to cram the first one into his mouth.

"It's going to be a long year," Snape sighed, taking a sip of tea.

"Do you know why Worty was crying?" Harry asked once he had swallowed.

"Homesick," Snape suggested. "Other children teasing him."

"You don't care?" Harry leaned forward, balancing the tea saucer between both hands. "A student is miserable, and no one cares?"

"I can't keep track of all students," Snape told him. "That's why we have Prefects and Head students. And some responsibility does fall on the parents. If the parents feel that a child is too young or immature to start the first year, they are welcomed to hold their child out a year. Not all children are ready to leave home at eleven."

"I would have come here at five," Harry objected. He paused then asked, "Would you have? I mean, did you want to come to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Snape set his cup and saucer down with a clink. "But Worty comes from a very wealthy, very Pure-Blooded family. He is the youngest of four children. The older three have already gone through Hogwarts – Worty is twelve years younger than the third child. I doubt his parents would have held him back even if they thought he would be miserable."

"Then his parents are still alive?" Harry questioned. "By the way he talked, I thought . . ."

Snape opened his mouth, then shook his head. "Don't worry about his parents. But I think it's very kind of you to befriend him."

"Yeah, 'cause if I don't Draco will poison his mind," Harry scoffed. "Do you know that Draco is telling first-years that if they touch me, they'll get a scar and die?"

"You are not going to start fighting with Draco," Snape pointed a finger at Harry. "I thought I straightened you two out this summer."

"Not him," Harry decided. "And I never needed straightening out."

He yawned and set his teacup on the table.

"You should go up to bed," Snape said, pouring a second cup.

"No," Harry disagreed, "I'm not tired. It's just all that running with Worty on my back wore me out."

"He's too heavy for you to carry," Snape insisted. "He might be small, but he weighs at least seventy or eighty pounds."

"I can carry him," Harry muttered, leaning back in the chair. "Let me close my eyes for a second, then I'll leave."

"Tomorrow is a school day," Snape began, but Harry had already closed his eyes and rested his head against the broad side wings of the armchair.

It was almost twelve o'clock, and Snape sighed heavily. He pulled out his wand and extinguished most of the candles. He browsed over some paperwork for a while, but when it became obvious that Harry was not going to wake up, Snape spelled his clothes into pajamas. He _Leviated_ Harry onto the sofa and floated a blanket over his tired body. But Snape walked over to the sofa himself to give Harry a pillow. He lifted the boy's head gently and slid the pillow under before easing his head back down again. In the candlelight, the scar was barely visible.

Snape stared down at the scar, the jagged, slightly-pink mark that had not faded, not even after fifteen years. Visible, reminding them of what had happened, but not . . .

Snape stepped away from the sofa. Time to think about that later. But for now Snape had a job. And his part in the job meant Harry's life hung in the balance.

Snape returned to his papers, glancing towards the slumbering boy every so often if only to make sure he didn't fall off the narrow sofa.


	4. Our Hero

AN: I apologize for taking so long. Grad school is getting impossible.

Disclaimer: Do not own. Or make money.

I'm in between papers so there may be a few mistakes. But hey, better than nothing, right?

Enjoy!

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The next morning, Snape woke and dressed quietly, trying to not wake the boy still slumbering on the sofa. Snape cleaned up his quarters, even moving Harry's clean clothes to the chair right beside the sofa. The clock edged closer and closer to breakfast time, and still Harry did not wake.

"A-hem," Snape cleared his throat loudly.

The boy did not stir.

"A-HEM!" Snape said ever louder.

Harry's nose twitched, and his hand shifted against the pillows, but he started snoring softly.

"Time to wake up," Snape announced. "Harry, wake up."

Harry moaned softly, squeezing his eyes tight. "Go 'way," he muttered.

"It's morning, and it's breakfast time."

"Not hungry," Harry groaned and slumped his face into his pillow.

"You need food," Snape argued. "And you have class today, one of which is mine."

"Then tell yourself I'm absent 'cause I'm sick."

Snape reached about and gave Harry's shoulder a hard shake. "Wake up, Potter! Enough of this nonsense, and get up. I mean it, right now, young man."

"I'm up," Harry said into his pillow. "I'm getting dressed, I'm off to class . . ."

Snape waited very patiently for one minute before pulling out his wand. He turned towards his bedroom, swishing his wand towards the sleeping boy.

Before Harry could lift his head, the sofa and covers disappeared, and he found himself dropping into a tub of ice and water.

The cubes of ice and freezing water gushed all over him, and he yanked his head up to howl at the awful shock to his system as he thrashed in the water.

"I'm sorry," Snape leaned back in the doorway. "Did you say something?"

"Agh!" Harry lunged out of the water and stood on the water, his pajamas soaked and water running down his face. "What was that for? I was getting up."

Snape smirked coldly and turned to leave.

Harry plunged his hand in the tub and grabbed handful of ice cubes. Then he flung them at Snape. Much like the dirt he had thrown in the summer, the ice hit Snape's robe and slid to the floor below.

Snape turned ominously to give his adopted son a scorching look. Harry dashed for his robe to pull out his wand. And then he ducked behind the chair as Snape's flying curse lobbed over his head. Harry stood with his own wand at the ready.

"You wouldn't dare," Snape warned. "You wouldn't dare pull your wand on a teacher."

"Normally, no," Harry replied snidely. "I wouldn't dare. But if I thought a teacher's hair was on fire, well," Harry pointed his wand at the ice tub. "_Wingardium Leviosa._"

The tub floated up in the air towards Snape. Eyes narrowed, Snape raised his own wand and pushed back against the tub.

Harry felt the force, the magic pressing against his own wand. He pushed back, testing his magical strength against Snape. It was strong, no denying that. Snape had terrific will power tied into his wand, magic that pulsed strong and true. And yet . . . Harry thought he might be a bit stronger in his own magic.

He shoved against the tub with all his might, and Harry watched the tub inch closer and closer to Snape. And most amazingly, Snape seemed to be fighting back very hard.

And then Harry realized he didn't want to win – he didn't want to think that Snape was weaker, Snape who seemed almost all-powerful, Snape who could snap him out of his moods, Snape who had adopted him and promised to take care of him.

Harry let the magic slip for a second, and Snape sent the tub careening towards Harry. The tub poured the melting ice over Harry's head, and he let out a yell which was closer to a girlish screech than he would like to admit. Even over his wet pajamas, the ice felt horrible, and he shook his head to get the water out of his eyes.

"I'm freezing!" Harry protested.

"I'm so sorry," Snape commented in a tone that implied he was not.

"You will be when I catch pneumonia," Harry growled, stepping out of the puddle of icy water on the floor.

"Well, we don't want that," Snape said. "But I have a nice thick potion that will ward off any cold. I think a extra large dose before breakfast will be just the thing for our young hero."

Harry grimaced, remembering the awful potions he had taken in the summer. Especially that dark, gooey stuff in that huge spoonful. "I'm fine," he assured Snape. "I'll just get dressed now."

"Good – you have five minutes before I send you to breakfast in those wet pajamas," Snape headed for the door. "And just so you know, I would have beaten you without you giving up so easily."

Harry threw another clump of ice at Snape before grabbing his clothes and scrambling to the bathroom.

------

"Where were you?" Neville asked as Harry sat down at breakfast, his hair still wet. "We didn't see you last night."

"What?" Hermione leaned across Ron who was stuffing his cheeks with bacon. "Harry, did you sneak out again? You need your sleep."

"I'll be fine," Harry muttered as he started eating fried eggs. He wondered if they would keep hounding him to tell them where he had been, but they began talking about other things. Apparently, Harry's nocturnal activities had been common enough last year for no one to make a big deal out of them. Harry prayed Snape didn't find out about how often he had sneaked around at night, or Harry knew he would be facing one very displeased potions master.

Across the table, Harry saw Worty eating breakfast. The small boy saw him looking and raised a hand timidly in greeting. Harry smiled at him and continued eating.

". . . really must have some kind of study timetable," Hermione was saying, tapping her fork on her plate emphatically. "With all these classes and our NEWTs at the end of next semester – no more slacking off, boys."

"I'm not worried about them," a floaty voice said from next to Hermione. Harry looked down the table to see Luna gazing off into the air as she twirled her finger over her cup of tea, making the spoon whirl around to stir up the sugar. "I never worry about tests – they usually record things we should know that we don't while avoiding things we shouldn't know but we do."

Hermione frowned, her smooth brow showing lines of disapproval. "Luna, that may be so, but we need to study to do our very best and not play around like last year."

Luna turned her wide eyes on Hermione. "We didn't play around last year – we had the DA meetings."

"Speaking of which," Ron said around a bite of sausage, "are we going to have those again this year, Harry?"

Harry shot a quick look at the teachers' table. Snape was there, but not looking in the direction of the Gryffindor's table. Harry debated for a second before answering. He wondered if Snape would like them continuing the DA meetings considering that Umbridge was gone. And Snape was the new DADA teacher and he probably wanted to run his class without Harry's interference. However, Snape had encouraged Harry to think of becoming a teacher instead of an auror, and what better time to prepare for teaching than now when he had a willing group to lead? And Snape was always harping on studying more for class and being prepared . . .

"Sure," Harry replied. "No reason to stop now. We might as well keep going cause he's still out there, you know."

"And it'd be wise to practice up in case Snape turns evil," Ron muttered.

Harry shot him a cold look, but Ron continued eating, oblivious to Harry's glares.

"This Saturday night?" Hermione suggested.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Then he blinked, "Oh, no, wait. I have something that night."

"What?" Ron demanded.

"Er – detention with Snape," Harry replied.

"Again?" Hermione pressed her lips together in concern. "Harry, what did you do the other night?"

"Nothing," Harry protested. He could feel his face turn red, and he wondered how long he could keep a secret from Ron and Hermione. Ron – probably longer as his red-headed friends didn't like to push thing. But Hermione – she was already eyeing Harry suspiciously, and Harry wondered if she already guessed, if not knew, what had happened to him over the summer.

"Fine, maybe Sunday," Hermione decided. "But Harry – you really must learn to control yourself. And behave in class today."

------

Potions with Madame Moretta was odd again as they started working on a potion to heal burns instantly without leaving a scar. The potion wasn't that difficult, Harry thought Hermione could whip it up in a matter of hours, but they set down to work putting stuff in cauldrons. Madame Moretta did not move around the class, trying to sneak up on them like Snape used to. Instead, she sat at her desk and tried to avoid looking at everyone.

Towards the end of the lesson, Draco, who was sitting at the back, tried hexing a student in front of him. The student was all right, but everyone looked towards the potions mistress to see what she would do. Detention seemed obvious, but Moretta only said in a clear, cold voice,

"Anyone disrupting my class will be asked to leave. You have been given a warning, Draco. You will not get another."

Draco sneered, but said nothing. Moretta nodded to show she was serious, and then she looked away from Draco. Yet, her eyes rested for a second of Harry. There was some expression, some depth of feeling in her gaze, but he could not discern what. And then she looked away before dismissing the class.

Snape's class was stressful as Harry felt that Snape was going out of his way to be difficult around students. They were working on casting a spell to create light for several minutes, a much harder spell than simple _Lumos_. They worked in pairs, Ron and Hermione together, Seamus and Dean, and Harry found himself teaming up with Neville.

Snape swooped around the room, finding fault with fault with Hermione's cast and Ron's stance, and of course Neville couldn't do a thing to please Snape.

"Really, Longbottom," Snape frowned, "you seemed to have lost any small skill you found over these last five years. It isn't too late to sent off for a Squib pamphlet."

"Hey!" Harry objected before he could stop himself.

Snape whirled on him next. "Yes, Mr. Potter? Perhaps you would like to show us the spell since you obviously grasp it so much more fully than the rest of us poor idiots?"

Harry met Snape's gaze defiantly and raised his wand. "_Lux lucio_!" he yelled.

Immediately, the room exploded with bright light, almost as strong as the sun. Students screamed and covered their eyes. The light was warm, nearly hot, and it flooded the room in pure white splendor, washing away all the dark corners and stone walls in a brilliant hue of brightness.

Harry covered his own eyes, wondering how long it would last. It hurt, even with his eyes shut, but he had had no idea his cast would be that powerful.

"Congratulation, Mr. Potter," Snape's voice said above his head. "You've managed to blind us all. Next time, perhaps you will give your cast a bit less temper and more control."

But in the blinding whiteness of the room, Harry felt Snape's hand on his shoulder, and the grip tightened. Harry recognized that as a get-control-of-yourself-or-I-will squeeze, and he nodded, silently telling Snape that he got the message.

"Once the light diminishes," Snape continued in a dry voice, "we will try again. Mr. Potter will not, but I'm sure he would be glad to help the rest of you since he is so far developed beyond his own class. But what else would you expect from our great hero?"

Most students were stumbling around with closed eyes, but Harry managed to back against the wall and wait until the glare subsided.

For the rest of the class, he helped Neville and tried to stay out of the way. Snape dismissed the class a little earlier than usual since students were still rubbing their eyes and complaining of headaches.

"I want a one foot essay on ghouls and counter-curses against darkness for next week," Snape instructed. "Use the second chapter of your books. I will check closely for errors. Mr. Potter, please stay afterwards."

Ron and Neville gave Harry sympathetic looks, but Hermione glared at him with the same intensity as if she had shaken her finger at him. Harry shrugged, trying to appear casual. Draco smirked at him as the blond left the room, but Harry ignored him.

Snape waited until the last student had left before instructing Harry to shut the door. After Harry pushed the door closed (so careful not to slam it), Harry turned back to Snape. "Look, I know what you're going to say."

"Ah, you've learned to mind-read," Snape observed. "I can stop scolding you and simply think it for next time."

"I didn't mean to cast such a strong spell," Harry protested, ignoring Snape's sarcasm. "I was distracted."

"Well, then I'll have to find a way of securing your attention," Snape decided. "Come here for a moment, Potter, and –"

"No!" Harry frantically shook his head. "You can't! I wasn't even that bad. I didn't mean to, and you only punish me when I do something deliberately wrong. I can't always control –"

"Harry!" Snape interrupted with a firm stare. "I'm not going to punish you. I just wanted to examine your wand to make sure nothing is wrong with it."

"Oh," Harry felt a little foolish. Today, he was just making great strides in the whole cool, causal hero department. He went over to Snape's desk and handed him his wand.

Snape began to run a series of tests with his own wand. Harry glanced around, bored, and took a nearby chair while he waited. It was kind of funny – this time last year if Snape had asked for his wand, Harry would have been sure Snape was about to hand him over to the Death Eaters. But now –

Harry leaned back in the chair and began clicking his tongue absentmindedly. And then he stuck his tongue out to see how long it could go. Then he rolled his tongue up like a hot dog. He started hissing between his teeth. Imaging he was talking to a snake, Harry began carrying on a conversation with himself in parscel-tongue, only knowing he was speaking it because his lips tingled slightly.

"_Do you want to help me fight?"_

"_Yes, but not with a broken wand."_

"_It's not broken."_

"_Then why is Snape looking at it?"_

He was between long and short hisses when he caught Snape's frown.

"English in my classroom, young man," Snape told him.

"_Selfish git,"_ Harry said in parscel-tongue.

"I see nothing wrong with your wand," Snape handed it back, and Harry stuck it in his pocket.

"Told you," Harry replied though he had said nothing of the sort.

"Then that means the spell came from you and not a fault in the wand. Care to tell me why you're upset?"

"I'm not upset!" Harry cried, hating that his voice went up so high at the end.

"You're jittery, jumping, and fidgeting," Snape shook his head. "Now either you have a case of wild hormones or you're up to something."

"I'm not!"

"Hiding something?" Snape prodded.

"No," Harry looked away. Should he tell Snape about the meeting with Moretta on Saturday now? Would Snape find out anyway? What about the DA meetings? "Er – um," Harry stalled for time.

"Is it a girl?" Snape questioned. "Or girls?"

It was the dumbest question Harry had ever heard, but for some reason his cheeks flamed red. He began sneering and grinning at the same time, and the worst part was Harry couldn't think of a single girl he really liked at the moment.

"My," Snape leaned back to consider Harry, "I'm going to have fun with this. Why don't you take your blushing, squirming self out of my classroom and get some fresh air?"

"Can I fly?" Harry asked, glad to have something else to talk about. "Quidditch practice starts next week."

"Aren't you still banned for life?" Snape asked blankly.

Harry's face shadowed. "Oh, yeah, last year with Umbridge, but surely that won't hold what with Dumbledore back and all."

"Well, the ban can be removed," Snape nodded, "but under the new Minister of Magic, anyone underage and under the ban must have a parent or guardian sign for them to participate."

"Oh," Harry thought for a second. "So this where I start begging for you to sign it, and you refuse just to torture me, and then in the end you sign it, making me look like a babbling fool?"

"Girls," Snape said pointedly, and Harry blushed again.

"Stop it!" he begged. "And please sign."

"I'll have it done by this weekend," Snape promised. "Now run along and stay out of trouble. And I better not find you kissing some fifth year in a broom closet anytime soon."

"I can't have a girlfriend?" Harry had stood up out of the chair, but he paused to glance at Snape.

"A girlfriend? Yes," Snape agreed. "A respectable young lady whom you study with and share afternoon walks and frivolous conversations. Not some flashy chit who wants to stick her tongue down our hero's throat."

"Snape – ugh!" Harry made a disgusted face.

"Yes," Snape nodded fervently, "you keep that attitude in mind when you start looking for a girlfriend, and we'll have no more problems with this matter. Now, off you go and remember you're coming to help me tonight if your want an allowance this week."

Ron and Hermione were waiting for Harry outside in the hallway.

"What happened?" Hermione questioned, rushing up to Harry. "You look like you're about to be sick."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "Snape was talking about something – really gross. Well, not in general, but for him to talk about – double yuck! And I have detention with him tonight."

"You seem to be spending a lot of time with Snape," Hermione noted.

Harry tried not to look overly suspicious or guilty. "It's just detention."

"No, I only meant," Hermione paused. "Just that – after last year, I was sure Snape wouldn't want to see you ever again. Yet, it's not the end of the first week, and he keeps dragging you into his office."

"Ruddy luck," Ron agreed.

"Harry," Hermione turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can tell us anything, all right? So just tell us this one thing."

"Yeah?" Harry waited nervously.

"Is Snape having the Occlumency lessons with you again?" Hermione questioned. "Has he started doing them, trying to build back your mind's resistance?"

"Oh, no," Harry felt a surge of relief. "No, he hasn't. Look, Snape's just his regular old self, right? Nothing unusual for now, and once there it, I'll tell you."

"Sure," Ron nodded.

Hermione did not look convinced, but she said nothing.

"Okay," Harry swallowed, "so who's up for a walk down to see Hagrid?"

"I have class," Hermione reminded them.

"I got a bit of free time," Ron said. "We'll go see Hagrid for a while, maybe break our teeth on those cakes again."

"Have fun," Hermione smiled as she headed for the stairs.

Ron slouched along, whistling as he headed outside. Harry followed, glad to have something to take his mind off the upcoming Saturday night.


	5. Finally Telling

AN: Here is another chapter. Sorry it's taken me so long. Grad school and advising in the department don't allow me a lot of time for writing. But this is an extra long chapter that I'm sure some people can read in about - oh, nine minutes.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, nor make any money.

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"So you see, class," Professor McGonagall continued, "this year we will focus on the transfiguration of the appearance of objects rather than a physical change of them. Our first task today will be an invisibility spell that will temporarily turn small objects invisible to the human eye. The objects will still be there, but we will be unable to see them. Does anyone know the name of this spell?"

Not surprising, Hermione's hand shot into the air, but Harry raised his hand a split second later.

McGonagall blinked, but nodded to Harry. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"_Res reflectus_," Harry replied.

Hermione looked at him, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Correct," a small smile appeared on McGonagall's face. "And can anyone tell me the meaning of the spell works?"

Harry raised his hand again, this time quicker than Hermione.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall pointed at him.

"It mean 'reflected things'," Harry replied. "Mainly Latin form, but the spell actually creates a mirror of whatever's on the other side from the viewer from all angles. So, you're really looking at the object, but it's showing you what's on the other side, so you can't see the object."

It wasn't exactly what the textbook would have said, and Harry was certain Hermione could have said it better. But a real smile flashed across McGonagall's face.

"Well done, Mr. Potter," she approved. "You have obviously been studying this summer. Can you tell me how long this spell lasts?"

"It depends on the strength of the wizard casting it," Harry replied, trying not to look at Hermione who was watching him with something between delight and envy. "And the size of the object. The average length of the spell is a few hours, but the longest record was in 1847 when Barty Grimgold made his whole castle disappear for twenty-eight whole days."

McGonagall stared for a moment before saying, "Fifteen points to Gryffindor for Mr. Potter's good memory. I expect the rest of you to do your reading as he has so you may be as quick in class."

She turned to walk to the front of the class to write the spell on the board, but Ron elbowed Harry. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Harry whispered with a very aloof look.

"Since when do you speak up in class?"

"Since I started studying this summer," Harry replied. "We have to study up for our N.E.W.T.s, you know."

"Merlin, there are two of them now," Ron whispered, looking back and forth at Harry and Hermione.

Hermione nodded finally. "Well done, Harry," she said softly. "I'm glad you finally saw the sense in studying. You will have to convince Ron now."

Ron looked positively ill, and Harry would have laughed, but McGonagall had turned back to the class to start their lesson.

Now that first week of school was underway, the classes had turned from welcome-backs and introductions to the serious business of learning. And Harry found himself not only keeping up, but able to answer all the questions posed. He let Hermione answer some of them, graciously leaning back to let her raise her hand, but clearly indicating that he too knew the answer.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione exclaimed on the way to lunch, grabbing Harry's arm as they walked, "when did you get to be so good in class? You've never known so much before."

"I told you, I studied over the summer," Harry said, but he looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn't give himself away.

"How much?" Hermione demanded. "You must have read every textbook all the way through.

"Pretty much," Harry agreed, thinking of all those long afternoons studying in the library at Snapdragon Manor.

"I can't believe you made yourself study so hard," Hermione shook her head. "Usually you can't sit still for ten minutes straight. You can be worse than Ron."

"I'm right here," Ron grumbled as he trudged along beside them.

"I just did it," Harry shrugged. "And your study timer helped."

"Study timer?" Hermione lifted an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the one you gave me for my birthday. I used it to help me study."

"Oh," Hermione said slowly, "well, then I'm glad."

"Ha!" Ron laughed. "Look at her face. She's all jealous because you actually studied. After all her lecturing, she's miffed now because someone took her advice. Now you're competition!"

"Be quiet, Ron!" Hermione ordered. "I'm glad Harry is doing so well. It's a good example to everyone else who might be playing around, present company included."

"Don't start," Ron sighed. "Not in the first week."

"I am curious," Hermione tilted her head at Harry. "How did you get your books?"

"From Diagon Alley," Harry said, edging away from her a little.

"You went early in the summer?" Hermione questioned.

"No, at the end, like always."

"So you only had a few weeks to study your new books?" Hermione's eyes widened. "You learned all that in three weeks?"

Time to backpedal and lie. "No," Harry said hastily. "I had the books before I went to Diagon Alley. I mean, I still went later, but I had some of the books earlier."

"How did you get them?" Hermione wouldn't let anything go.

"I was given them," Harry answered, almost making his statement a question.

"Who gave them to you?"

"Uh - teachers," Harry replied. "I wanted to study, so I asked for the books to borrow from here for the summer."

"From all the teachers?" Hermione asked, watching Harry carefully.

"Yeah, sure."

"Funny, McGonagall didn't say anything about it in class, You think she would remember that you asked, and tell the rest of the class what you had done so we could do the same."

"She forgot?" Harry winced inwardly at how high his voice had gone, as it always did when he was nervous.

"You think she would forget?" Hermione asked, her eyes penetrating.

"Good grief," Ron spoke up, "what is this? An interrogation? Just 'cause Harry did something you weren't smart enough to do, Hermione -"

"Oh, be quiet!" Hermione snapped as she took her seat on the bench at the lunch table. "I was just wondering."

"I'm wondering about whether or not we're going to Hogsmead this year," Ron said as he sat down beside her. "After the scare at the Ministry this year, security has been tighter everywhere. Mum would barely let me out of the house, and she made Ginny come in before dark every evening. Everyone has gone crazy - Dad would stay out all night sometimes on raids."

"They might let us go, under careful watch," Hermione suggested as she began serving Harry and Ron shepherd's pie and cold salad. "But I expect the teachers will be watching us careful this year."

"Why are you looking at me?" Harry demanded.

"Please," Hermione said with a sarcastic look that she usually reserved for Ron, "you and your sneaking around at night are famous at this school."

"I can count on one hand the number of times I sneaked out at night," Harry declared. "Well, maybe two hands, but it wasn't as often as everyone thinks."

"Yeah, but when you did, something awful usually happened," Ron pointed out before snuffing a huge bite of food into his mouth.

"I'm cursed," Harry muttered as he started with his own food.

"Not cursed," Hermione told him. "Just coincidentally unlucky."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said dryly.

------

"Can't believe you bested Hermione," Ron grinned and bent down to pick up a small stone to skip across the lake. "Should have seen her face when you were rattling off answers. For all her talk about us studying, she likes being the only know-it-all."

Ron flung out his arm, and his stone skipped three times across water.

"I promise I wanted be that – uh, answer-ready," Harry said. Something told him that Ron wouldn't take too kindly to Harry criticizing Hermione though goodness know Ron did it plenty.

"When did you have time to study so much anyway?" Ron thew another rock. It skipped twice before sinking.

"Dunno," Harry looked away. "Around July, I guess."

Ron flung another rock. It sunk without skipping once. "Water's too rough," he grumbled.

Harry grabbed a flat rock and flung it out. It skipped across the glass-like water ten times.

Ron frowned and searched for another rock. "Who wants to study over the summer?"

"Who said anything about wanting to?" Harry muttered.

"I tried," Ron said, "but between Mum worrying and Fred and George visiting and Ginny moping, it was just too much," Ron threw another rock. It skipped once.

"You've got to keep the rock level with the water," Harry told him. "And fling your arm out flat, too, and snap your wrist at the last moment, like this."

Harry demonstrated, and his rock skipped on the surface so many times he lost count.

Ron muttered something unflattering under his breath. Harry shrugged and flopped down on the huge boulder to watch Ron search for the perfect stone.

"But really," Ron passed over three flat stones and examined a fourth one before tossing it aside, "what happened to you over the summer?"

"I don't – wh-what do you mean?" Harry stammered.

"You're different," Ron decided. "And not 'time to face my destiny' different like last year. You're all – I dunno, cautious and paying attention in class and going to bed before Hermione makes you. What happened to you?"

"Nothing much," Harry said, though he knew he was looking especially guilty. Thank goodness Ron wasn't too bright.

Harry flinched. What an awful thing to think about his best friend. Ron, who risked his life to help him more times than Harry could count. Ron, who was always ready to offer quiet loyalty and support. Ron, who befriended him on the train that first day. Ron, who was his first friend after eleven years of having none.

Harry felt a wave of guilt over his thoughts followed by a rush of anger at himself for taking Ron for granted. Two years ago when Ron had left him during the start of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had understood how much he needed Ron's friendship, and he had never been lonelier. And at the end of all things, Ron would be with him, no doubt – ready to defend him even to the final fight.

"I have something to tell you," Harry said in a rush.

"If you're about to say you charmed those rocks, I'm not speaking to you," Ron declared, tossing away another imperfect rock.

"No, this is important," Harry insisted. "And I need you to hear it now."

"All right," Ron straightened, his face very serious. "Are you in love with – Moaning Myrtle?"

And Ron broke into the biggest of grins.

Harry rolled his eyes. Blasted best friend. "Ron, this is serious."

"I know," Ron chortled. "Dead serious! Get it? Just think, the Boy-Who-Lived with the Girl-Who-Died!"

"I don't think that's funny," Harry protested. "And I mean it. Come on, I need you to listen."

"Right, sorry," Ron tried to keep a straight face though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Good," Harry took a deep, bracing breath. He wasn't sure if this was the right time to tell Ron, but then Harry knew he never told anyone anything at the right time. And Harry knew the longer he waited the angrier Ron would be at him for not telling him the moment they got on the train. Better to get it over with now at the beginning of the school year. And Hermione would guess soon enough, and if she figured it out before Ron did, Harry knew he would never hear the end of it.

"Do you remember my birthday dinner?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "you got some nice gifts. And Mum was all impressed with the thank-you letter. She put it on the dining room table and lectured all of us about not sending our own letters when we get gifts."

"Sorry 'bout that," Harry said hastily. "But do you remember where I had my party?"

A blank look came over Ron's face as if he were trying to remember something he had never known.

"I wasn't at my relatives' house," Harry said. "I went somewhere else this summer."

"Yeah?" Ron looked vaguely interested. "Anywhere good?"

Harry took another deep breath. "Right, I'm going to tell you this and I need you to just listen until I'm through."

Ron tried not to smile, but he nodded seriously.

Harry took another deep breath. "I wasn't at my relatives' house. Well, I was, but only for a few days. And then I went somewhere else. I-I-I went to Snape's house."

"Huh?" Ron looked confused.

"And I stayed there all summer," Harry didn't know where to look. "At first, it was hard, and I got into loads of trouble. And then it was easier. And then we kind of, you know, went along for a bit. And – and at the end of summer he adopted me," Harry blurted out.

Ron did an excellent impression of someone frozen, his face a picture of absolute shock. Harry thought he heard something rustle in the bushes. He whirled to look, but saw nothing. He looked back at Ron who was still frozen.

"You can say something now," Harry braced himself for a torrent of words.

"Bah-dep!" Ron finally squeaked. "Bah . . . duh, no, no, not going – what I . . . when did – world upside-down – and suddenly . . . bah-ha! No! Can't begin –"

"Ron, slow down," Harry cautioned, watching his friend's face turn redder and redder. "Breathe!"

Ron waved his hands wildly in the air, looking like he was choking. "You stayed with him? You let him adopt you? Why didn't you tell me? You could have written!"

"Snape wouldn't let me," Harry shrugged.

"Then Dumbledore! Surely he could have stopped Snape."

"Not likely. Come on, Ron – it wasn't that bad. Yeah, we had a few rough days –"

"I can imagine," Ron snorted. "He probably had you cleaning caldrons and scrubbing floors all summer."

"A few times," Harry admitted.

"You should have run away!"

"I did once," Harry confessed. "He wasn't too happy . . ."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron demanded.

"I wanted to," Harry tried his best not to look guilty. "But I have to keep it a secret."

Ron opened his mouth furiously and then closed it with a snap before dropping to sit on the boulder. "Tell me the whole story, starting from the beginning," he ordered.

Harry obliged, beginning with the first night when he had dropped into Snape's study. "I was there," he continued his explanation. "And I was – uh, upset, and Snape let me spent the night."

"Let you?" Ron was suspicious.

"Okay, made me. I wasn't in any shape to go back to the Dursleys after he finished – er, talking to me," Harry hoped his cheeks were not turning too red. No way he was ever telling Ron what Snape had done to him on that first night. Or any of the other times either. "So I stayed. But the fireplace that I came through was all messed up, and I ended up getting sick –"

"His house made you sick," Ron pointed out triumphantly.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and he kept telling the story. He glossed over going to Malfoy Manor and didn't even mention Draco dropping by for two weeks, but still at the end of the story, Ron was outraged.

"All that happened?" he shouted. "And you wrote that stupid letter about how you were studying and enjoying the nice weather!"

"It was Snape's fault," Harry took the coward's way out. "I wanted to tell you everything, but he said no. I wasn't allowed out of the manor. Even at the party, you didn't remember you had seen him."

"Huh!" Ron snorted angrily, crossing his arms. "That git just keeps at it, doesn't he? Not enough that he might betray us all – now he's got you under his power, too."

"It's not that bad," Harry objected. "I was kind of messed up this summer, after what happened with Sirius. Snape was – you know, there, usually when I needed him."

Ron turned incredulous eyes on him. "You're saying that you don't think Snape's evil?"

"Not Voldemort evil," Harry assured him. "Taking petty pleasure in making my life miserable – maybe that kind of evil."

"Who knows here about it?" Ron asked next.

"Only the teachers," Harry assured him. "He said I can tell my best friends, but no one else. We still have roles to play. He's still a Death Eater spy, and I'm still, well, you know."

"Does Hermione know?" Ron asked, watching Harry closely.

"No, I told you first. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I just wanted to get through this week, and then see what was happening with everyone. You see how he is in class – no difference."

"I knew there was a difference!" Ron said with a victorious gleam in his eyes. "I said so, didn't I? I said Snape was different to you in class."

"Yeah, you said so," Harry admitted.

"Ha, and Hermione did not," Ron looked even more satisfied with himself. "Once again, brains do not mean you know everything."

"So now you know," Harry breathed with relief. Somehow, everything had turned out right. He had missed several potential friendship hazards, and since Ron was not stalking off mad, everything was fine. Snape would not approve of his method, but then Snape never liked anything Harry did that so narrowly missed disaster.

"You are you planning to tell next? Ron demanded.

"Hermione,:" Harry answered immediately. "And then . . . maybe Dean or Seamus."

"Neville?"

"Not unless I want him to keel over," Harry replied.

Ron laughed. "This changes everything, mate. You and Snape – kind of like Who-Know-Who and Dumbledore being friends. Never thought it possible."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Me? Oh, fine, fine, just a bit shaken up. Let's go rattle Hermione."

Ron started for the steps, and Harry went to follow. Ron stopped so suddenly and whirled around t hat Harry had to jerk to a stop to keep from hitting him.

"Was that where you were the other night when you disappeared?" Ron demanded.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I feel asleep in Snape's rooms, and he let me sleep there."

Ron shook his head. "I can't believe it. Snape – I would have sworn he was your enemy. Can't wait to see Hermione's face now."

They found Hermione in a corner of the library, reading a very thick textbook and making small, perfect notes in a copybook.

"Come with us," Ron whispered, leaning over the table. "We've got something brilliant to tell you."

"I can't," she replied, turning a page. "I have to finish now. I can't take this book out of the library."

"But you can't believe what we have to tell you," Ron hissed. "It's bloody fantastic!"

"Don't swear in the library," she shook her head, still staring at the page. "Whatever you have to say can wait fifteen minutes."

"But you won't believe it!"

Harry hung back a few feet, not wanting to intrude on Hermione's studying.

"Does it have to do with Harry?" Hermione asked calmly.

"Yeah," Ron nodded fervently.

"Does it have to do with this summer?"

"Yeah!"

"Does it have to with Snape adopting Harry?"

Harry blinked in surprise, and Ron's mouth fell open.

"You know?" Ron squeaked.

"Yes," Hermione said as she turned another page.

Ron reached over and slammed the book shut.

"Ron!" Hermione's head shot up. "I'll lose my place!"

"You tell us right now how you knew about Harry and Snape."

The librarian shushed them across the room, and Hermione gave Ron and Harry (who had done nothing) a glare before snatching up her back. "We'll go into the hall to talk," she decided.

They went out into the hallway. No students were about, understandable consider it was Friday afternoon, so they had reasonable privacy.

"Spill it!" Ron ordered once they reached the far corer of the hall.

"I know that Snape adopted Harry," Hermione replied, almost coldly. She had a frosty look about her that spoke more about her annoyance with Harry that her frustration at Ron.

"You said I was the first you told," Ron shot at Harry.

"You were," Harry insisted. "How did you find out, Hermione?"

"I put the pieces together," she replied, giving a rather snooty purse of her lips. "It was one thing for you to return from summer looking healthy and happy rather than pale and starved. And it was one thing for you to act all suspicious in Snape's class, shouting out things you never would have said before. And rather than getting you expelled, he just gave you detention which you did not seem to mind. All that I might understand as a part of your finally growing up and excuse your idiocy with yelling, but then you knew all the answers in our classes. I'm sorry, but that is something else entirely, something you would never accomplish on your own."

Harry joined Ron in crossing his arms and glaring at her.

"So I decided to find out exactly what you had done this summer. I had your letter and that thank-you card, also highly suspicious as you've never written one before, and I knew I saw you once this summer for your birthday dinner. I could not remember where the party was or who hosted it – I could only remember that I had a delightful time. Since when did you have birthday parties in the summer all formal and dressed up? And now at school you're wearing better clothes and your books were all together and you could not stop looking towards Professor Snape at mealtimes. The first night, you would not look away from the teachers' table. At first I thought you were hoping he wasn't here, but then I realized you were worried because he wasn't. So I put everything together, and I decided you stayed with him over the summer.

"Now, considering the two of you, I'm guessing it was a matter of kill each other or learn to get along. You survived, and so did he, so you must have figured out a way to get along. Typically, when people put that much effort into enduring each other, they learn to like each other and stay together. Snape has no family, and you don't either, really. Hence, you fit together. Am I right?"

Ron scowled, and Harry shook his head.

"Snape was right, you are a know-it-all," Harry commented.

"How long it'd take for you to figure that all out?" Ron demanded.

"About twenty minutes," Hermione said. "But then it took me forty minutes to calm myself down from wanting to tear you apart, Harry!"

"Me?" Harry protested.

"How could you not tell me – and Ron?" she put her hands on her hips.

"I don't know," Harry said. "This summer – living with Snape. I'm all confused now – about everything."

"Good, you should be confused," Hermione told him. "Normally, I would give you the silent treatment for a week for hiding something this big, and Ron for two days."

"What did I do?" Ron asked pitifully.

"You didn't tell me Harry was acting even more suspicious than I knew," she replied shortly. "Use your eyes and your head, Ron! But as I said, that's what you would get normally. But I am far too busy this week with homework to punish either of you."

"Punish us with silence?" Harry lifted his eyebrows skeptically.

"Shh!" Ron hissed to Harry. "Don't rile her up."

"We will discuss this later," Hermione pointed a finger at the space in between Ron and Harry, thus at both of them. "Right now I have studying to do. But prepare to have a very long conversation about this tonight."

"Lucky us," Harry muttered. Ron just shot him a disgruntled look, implying that all of it was his fault.

------

And talk about it they did. In a quiet corner of the Commons Room, for nearly three hours, Hermione drilled Harry with questions. With attention to tiny details that Ron would never have thought to ask, Hermione wanted to know everything. From what his room looked like at Snapdragon Manor to what he ate there to what rules Snape gave (because she insisted that Snape must have rules though Harry tried edge around it) and worst of all what Snape did when he broke those rules.

"What makes you think I broke them?" Harry asked her.

Hermione gave him a patient, but pointed look.

"I didn't break that many rules," Harry claimed.

She still waited.

"He just – you know, sent me to my room," Harry couldn't meet her eyes. "And had me do a few chores. What? It wasn't like he could ground me! I only went off the property three or four times the whole summer."

"Just checking," Hermione assured him. "I felt certain that he wouldn't abuse his power over you though he has been horrible to you in school. But as long as he didn't hurt you or hit you, it will all be all right. Now, let's go back to what happened when you went looking for your Cloak."

Twenty-three white lies and omissions later, Harry finally got to go to his room and fall into bed. Ron looked a little miffed that Harry had revealed more to Hermione's demanding questions than he had by the lake, and Ron was rather short as they got into their beds. However, Ron did not have the persistence of the punishing silence as Hermione did, and by morning Ron was back to his old self.

He did, however, keep asking Harry about what Snape might think about everything.

"Does Snape mind that you're wearing Gryffindor colors?" "Does Snape know you keep your trunk such a mess?" "Does your hair bother Snape?"

"Yes!" Harry shouted to the last question. "And I don't know about the others. But I'm going to see him this morning, and I'll ask him."

"You're going to see him?" Ron prodded.

"Yes, it's Saturday, and I want to see if I can get my allowance," Harry said before he could think. He hated bringing anything to do with money up in front of Ron.

"You get an allowance!"

"Yeah, but only because I'm saving up to get a new broom . . ." Harry trailed off reluctantly.

"You're getting a new broom!"

"Not now. I have to save up."

"But you have plenty of – you know."

"Well, Snape won't let me touch it," Harry told him. "I have to save it for a house or a family or something like that, for when I'm older. With new broom, I could train to play Quidditch professionally, but I don't think he'd agree with that."

That modified Ron's indignation a little, and Harry thought that Ron seemed a little too pleased that the Boy-Whose-Family-Left-Him-A-Fortune couldn't buy everything he wanted.

"Are we going to get Quidditch started up again soon?" Ron asked as they headed towards breakfast.

"I plan to ask McGonagall and Dumbledore first thing Monday," Harry nodded.

Hermione was planning to study for the day, but as soon as she heard that Harry was going to visit Snape, she insisted on tagging along. Ron wanted to go as well, so at ten-thirty-five, Harry found himself at Snape's door with two best friends in tow. He knocked politely, smiling at Hermione to show her he did have some manners.

Hearing a "Come in," Harry opened the door and led them all into Snape's study room.

Snape was sitting in an armchair, reading, and he looked up, a little annoyed. "Yes, Mr. Potter, may I help you?" he asked in a cold voice.

"It's okay, Snape," Harry assured him. "I told them everything."

"Yes, Mr. Potter, may I help you?" Snape ground out a little more forcefully.

"Yes, you can say hello to my friends," Harry gestured to Ron and Hermione as if Snape had not seen them.

"That is not how you address a teacher," Snape lectured.

"That is not how you address your adopted son either, remember?" Harry challenged.

Snape let out his breath. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I apologize for Harry's rudeness. I will have a word with him once we are alone, believe me. But I see that Harry has told you everything?"

Hermione nodded, her lips pressed together. Ron searched for words and ended up blabbing, "Bah-ha, Ha!"

Snape glanced at Harry as if to say "_Really? I have to put up with this_?" Harry returned the look, not backing down an inch.

"All right," Snape stood. "You're all shocked and flabbergasted beyond words."

"I'm not, sir," Hermione replied, her tone edged with ice.

"You, Miss Granger -" Snape started to sneer, and then caught Harry's eye and relented, "you will never be at a loss for something to say, I am quite sure."

"Nor you, sir," she returned.

Harry looked nervously back and forth between Snape and Hermione. Surprisingly, Ron was the one to break the silence.

"Well, we better be going. Right, Hermione?"

Hermione who seemed to be in a staring, silent battle with Snape did not look away until Ron grabbed her arm and pulled her out to the hall.

Snape marched forward and shut the door. He turned to look at Harry, looking like a dark, foreboding bat of a figure in his sweeping robes.

Harry took out his wand. "_Obliviate_?" he suggested, pointing his wand towards the door after his friends. When Snape said nothing, Harry pointed the tip of the want to his own head. "Killing curse?"

"Not the least bit amusing," Snape snapped. "Is there a reason you wanted to parade in here with an entourage and upset my Saturday?"

"No," Harry took a seat in his favorite chair and put his feet up on the opposite chair. "Oh, right, I want my allowance." Harry flung out a hand in Snape's direction. "I prefer a whole Galleon, but I will take Sickles if that's all you have."

"You're about to get a lot more than a Sickle," Snape growled. He marched over to the chair and grabbed Harry by the collar.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're being a brat," Snape snarled. "I expected you to handle your friends better this. Tell them what happened with some sort of maturity and not go barging around like a madman."

"I told them yesterday," Harry countered.

"Yes, at the lake and in the library where anyone could hear!" Snape retorted.

"Maybe, but I made sure – wait," Harry turned towards Snape. "How do you know I told them at the lake and the library?"

"I –I," Snape stammered, and Harry got out of his seat. Snape never stammered, and Harry felt his heart rate flare right up.

"What did you do, Snape?"

"I asked Draco to watch you," Snape sighed.

"You did what?" Harry said, not sure he was hearing right.

"Draco has been having trouble with his own friends," Snape admitted. "He came to me on the second day of class, complaining about no one talking to him. So I told him he could watch you and make sure that you weren't telling the whole school about our new arrangement."

"He was spying on me?" Harry nearly shouted.

"Yes," Snape said frankly. "And I would feel bad for it, except that I feel better knowing someone else is keeping an eye on you so you can't get into too much trouble."

"Does Draco come back and report on me?" Harry growled. "What does he say? 'Ten o'clock – Harry in class.' 'Twelve-fifteen – Harry late for lunch.' 'Four-seventeen – Harry running down to Hagrid's with friends!'"

"Harry, you don't understand –"

"Oh, I understand plenty," Harry snapped. "Look, why don't you just stay out of my way? I thought we could – you know, do this here at school. But apparently I'm too irresponsible and childish, and you're too much of a rotten git!"

Harry stomped out of the room. He wanted to slam the door behind him when he nearly fell over Draco who was crouched outside in the hallway.


	6. A Saturday

Here's another chapter. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I own none of this.

Thank you all for the great reviews.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry stopped in outrage, glaring at Draco. Draco stood up slowly, a sheepish look on his face that he tried to turn into a sneer.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco demanded, but his voice had lost its usual bravery and went up high at the end.

Harry growled and grabbed Draco by the front of his shirt.

"Looking for a fight?" Draco asked, ready to put up his fists.

But Harry stepped back, tightening his fist on Draco's shirt. Draco gave him a scared look – eyes open and wide – and then Harry stepped back quickly. He pulled Draco with him, whirled the blond boy in a circle. Harry turned faster and faster, and Draco stumbled along with him. They neared the wall, and Harry gave his arm a jerk and let go.

Moving with centrifugal force, Draco kept moving until he ran smack into the wall. Draco slammed into the stone wall and immediately fell back, hitting the floor with an "Oof!"

"Teach you not to be such a sneak," Harry snarled.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape bellowed from the doorway of his office.

But Harry had had it with him too. Not even looking in Snape's direction, Harry took off down the hall.

"Come back here!" Snape ordered.

Harry kept running, going faster and faster until he ran out into the warm sunshine of the September morning.

He was heading towards Hagrid's hut, he realized after a few more sprints, but then he abruptly turned and ran for the woods behind the hut. Once the trees had closed around him, Harry stopped, panting for breath.

"UH!" he kicked at a huge oak tree in front of him. His foot inside his shoe hurt, but the pain didn't stop his anger. "Stupid, sodding, ugly, potion-sucking bastard!"

"Such strong words," a voice observed.

Harry whirled to see Dumbledore watching him. The old wizard was sitting on a stump, a walking staff in his hand.

"Oh, sorry, sir," Harry flushed. "Didn't know anyone was here."

"I take it you are upset with someone," Dumbledore noted, his blue eyes watching Harry quietly.

"No, no one in particular," Harry shrugged, trying not to look like he was lying. "Just school, you know."

"I fear I do not understand your fury towards your studies," Dumbledore replied, still watching. "At your age, I only showed that sort of – _ehem_," he coughed, " temper when I felt someone close to me had wronged me."

"Can't hide anything from you," Harry sighed. He sat down in front of the older wizard on a fallen log. "You know about Snape, right?"

"My dear boy," Dumbledore smiled, "I would be telling you to call him Professor, but I feel the two of you have moved past that stage by now."

"He calls me _Harry_, most of time," Harry admitted.

"And what do you call him?"

"_Snape_. I wish I could call him, well, you know."

Dumbledore smiled again. "I feel you have more faith in my ability to understand exactly what you mean than I do."

"I called him _Dad_ once or twice," Harry looked down at the pine-needle-covered ground. "It felt good, but then it felt weird, and I went back to _Snape_. I thought about _Uncle_, but I don't know."

"He has a first name," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yeah, but _Severus_ sounds worst than _Snape_," Harry objected.

"You are in a bit of a pickle," Dumbledore agreed. "Was this whole name dilemma that upsetting to make you call names and kick a tree that did you no harm?"

"I was mad at Snape," Harry said, feeling a little frustrated with Dumbledore's pretended ignorance. "We had a fight."

"Did you now?"

"Yes, we had a row in his office. He doesn't trust me."

"Dear me," Dumbledore shook his head.

Harry had an overwhelming urge to smile at his own temper, but he forced himself to scowl instead. "Yes, he was having Draco follow me around and spy on me."

"That does sound aggravating," Dumbledore noted. "Did Snape say why?"

"No, I left before him could."

"You just walked out?"

"Well, I might have shouted at him to stay out of my way and I called him a git, and then I left. And then I saw Malfoy, and I flung him into a wall before I ran off."

"Ah, to be young again," Dumbledore shook his head. "Was Mr. Malfoy unharmed?"

"I dunno," Harry muttered. He scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe.

They sat in silence for a few seconds. The birds in the trees tittered, and Harry could hear the wind rustling the leaves.

"You think I was wrong?" Harry finally spoke.

"I think it's far too nice a day to be angry," Dumbledore announced. "I myself often find other people to be highly frustrating. Why, just this morning I received two notes from parents who asked if their children could stay over holidays as the parents didn't want to be bothered with said children until June. I couldn't imagine anyone having children and not wanting to see them on Christmas. I hope those with loving parents learn to appreciate the attention and care they show them."

"You think I was wrong to snap at Snape?" Harry glanced up. "I should have kept my temper?"

"Very hard to put oneself in another's shoes," Dumbledore tapped the ground with his staff. "I don't suppose I would enjoy someone doubting my ability to make good decisions or having another someone spying on me. But on the other hand, were I a very bright young man with a heavy load of responsibility on my shoulders, I might like someone to watch out for me so I don't come to an untimely end as I very nearly have done so several times before."

"I liked it better in the spring when you talked to me straight and direct," Harry commented.

"Very well," Dumbledore pushed himself up, straightening until the top of his gray cap nearly touched the lower tree branches. "Stop doubting Professor Snape and stop losing your temper."

Harry blanched. Dumbledore had never been so direct with him before.

"Both of you need to learn to wait before you react," Dumbledore continued. "You must stop shouting out things, or Severus will do nothing but reprimand you."

Harry turned even redder. "He – uh, he told about all that?"

"Did he tell me that he punished you when you deserved it?" Dumbledore looked very stern. "Yes, he did. His methods may be a bit old-fashioned, but he kept his promise to return you safe and sound at the end of summer. In this case, perhaps the ends justify the means."

"I hate that saying," Harry grumbled under his breath.

"We all do at times," Dumbledore agreed. "But I told you years ago that I believed in Snape. I would not choose a better man to guard you this year."

"Guard me?" Harry blinked. "Don't you mean be my guardian?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Dumbledore agreed hastily. "The same thing, in my old mind. But now, my boy, I think you have sat and sulked enough for one morning. Let us take a walk around the lake and chat for bit before lunch. I am extremely eager to hear about your summer, well, at least the pleasant bits. The unpleasant parts, you are welcomed to omit."

"Then I'll have to leave out whole weeks all together," Harry muttered as he fell into step beside Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head, but his eyes were smiling.

------

A long walk and a good lunch lifted Harry's sprits. At lunch, he didn't see Snape. Draco was sitting with the Slytherins, refusing to look at Harry. Worty raised a hand of greeting to Harry, and Harry smiled back. The little boy seemed happier than the last time Harry had seen him, and Harry hoped that he had finally settled in and made some friends.

At the table at Harry's place was a small folded piece of paper. He opened it slowly, afraid it might be a trick of Draco's. But instead on the inside in small letters was written: _Meet me at midnight instead of nine in my classroom. M.M._

The paper turned to ash as soon as he read it, and Harry brushed his hands on his trousers, hoping no one else had seen.

After lunch, Ron wanted to talk more about Snape, but Hermione said she wanted to study. Harry said he was going to talk to a few teachers so Ron reluctantly wandered off with Hermione for a few hours of studying though he protested it was too early to need to study for anything.

Harry took a book outside, one he had taken from Snapdragon Manor, and found a comfortable spot on the grass by the castle to read. He was in the middle of a pirate story (really who ever guessed that wizards could write such good pirate stories?) when a tall shadow fell over his book.

Harry glanced up to see Snape standing over him. The sunlight was behind Snape, making the man's face dark and shadowy.

"We need to talk," Snape said quietly.

"I'm reading," Harry rolled over onto his stomach. A second later, he thought he better not be cheeky while he was laying front down, so he rolled back over to lie on his back and blocked Snape out with the book.

"You have one second to put that book down and come with me or else," Snape said in a deadly calm voice.

Harry dropped the book to glare up at Snape. "Or what? You'll have someone else follow me around? Want to get one of your sneaky Slytherins to spy on me?"

"I would watch my tone," Snape said in the same quiet tone, "especially with students not that far away and so many tree branches nearby, waiting to be turned into switches."

"You wouldn't," Harry declared.

"Do you really want to find out?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

Growling, Harry rolled up to his knees and stood, grabbing his book with one hand. "I can't get a moment of peace," Harry complained. "I just wanted to read for a while."

A few students close by were tossing a ball around, but they stopped to watch Harry and Snape. Harry realized with a cringe that most of them were first-years, and he prayed Snape wouldn't do anything to embarrass him.

"What are you staring at?" Snape snapped at them. "Go back to playing your ridiculous game before you all get detention."

The children began throwing the ball to each other so fast they could barely catch it. Then one girl flung the ball down the hill away from the castle, and they all used the excuse to run away down the hill.

"They weren't hurting anyone," Harry objected. "Why couldn't they stay?"

"Because they were being nosy," Snape told him. "Now, would you like to go by yourself inside to my office or would you like some help?"

"What?" Harry challenged. "You're going to pull me by the hand inside if I refuse?"

Snape didn't answer.

"You wouldn't dare," Harry gasped. "I swear, Snape, you grab me by the hand or the ear or anything, and I'll never speak to you again."

"Well, in that case," Snape pretended to reach for his hand.

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried a few steps ahead of Snape. The dungeons seemed dark and cold after the warm afternoon, but Harry didn't comment on it. He went into Snape's office, took a seat in front of the desk, and crossed his arms. "I'm waiting," Harry said in a voice that was much more arrogant than he meant it to be.

"Thank you, your highness," Snape sneered as he sat down.

They eyed each other for a few seconds. Harry was determined not to be the first to speak, and he felt a little surge of satisfaction when Snape broke the silence.

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

"Not that I can think of," Harry said, trying to ignore thoughts of the conversation he had had earlier with Dumbledore. "Don't you have something to say to _me_?"

"And what would that be?"

"How about 'Sorry for having Draco spy on you'?"

"Oh, I'm not sorry about that," Snape replied immediately. "I'm only sorry you found out."

Harry's mouth dropped open in outrage. "You git!" he accused. "You two must like spying on me. 'Oh, what's Potter up to now? Draco, you follow him for a while, and I'll take him after supper'."

"It was for your own good," Snape begin, but Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right. Everything's for my own good, every nice little thing you do to me."

"Sarcasm isn't a pretty color on you," Snape observed. "Try your usual Gryffindor idiocy with a little heroism for a better look."

"Why?" Harry held out his hands. "Why do you want to make me so angry?"

Snape blinked in surprise, and then he sighed. "You're right."

"I am?" Harry sat up, surprised.

"I understand why you're frustrated," Snape admitted. "Just with the beginning of the school year and our new arrangement . . . before we left home, I went over a few accounts and I began thinking about the last five years you've been here."

Harry winced inwardly, guessing at what Snape was getting at.

"Five years, every one ending in near death for you, each time getting more dangerous and terrifying. I started thinking of why you get into these situations, and I couldn't find a reason other than things just happen to you. So, I thought maybe if I started watching you at the beginning of the school year, I might stop the first thing that eventually leads you towards tragedy. But I can't watch you every second, and Draco was there with nothing to do and so . . ." Snape sighed again. He looked tired and worn out. "But the real truth is I would do anything to protect you now. Anything."

Harry watched him for a second and then huffed. "I hate it when you have good reasons for being a total prat," Harry growled.

"Watch your language," Snape admonished. "Is that enough of a talk, or do you want more?"

"No, I'm good," Harry agreed.

"Then I need you to tell me if anything suspicious has happened?" Snape watched Harry carefully.

Harry shifted the least bit. "Like what?"

"Anything unusual," Snape said carefully. "Anyone talking to you in a strange way or asking you to do something odd?"

"Not that I can think of," Harry hedged. Madame Moretta crowded his thoughts, but he wasn't going to tell Snape – he couldn't. Snape might not let him go, and Harry was going to find out what the strange woman wanted.

"Are you sure?" Snape questioned.

"Positive," Harry nodded.

"Good enough," Snape stood and walked over to the large cupboard. He opened it and pulled out a long object.

"My broom," Harry cheered.

"I had the ban removed," Snape told him. "You can go fly for a bit. But stay on school grounds, and don't swim over the lake. You get wet at all, and you won't see that broom until Christmas."

Grinning, Harry went for the door, glad to spend a long afternoon flying.

------

That evening after supper, Snape put him to work straightening the classroom, but Harry was careful to watch the clock. Around nine, he faked several yawns, and Snape called it quits. Promising to return the next afternoon, Harry headed up to his dormitory. Ron was hanging out with Seamus and they asked Harry to join a game of Exploding Snap. Two hours later with his hands smarting from the exploding cards, Harry announced he was off to bed.

The other boys in his room had flown some as well and played ball, and they followed his lead to bed. But by almost twelve, they were sound asleep. Harry slipped out of bed and fumbled for his Cloak and wand.

He made it out of tower with little noise, creaking the portrait of the Fat Lady slowly as to not wake her and shutting her softly. He did not light his wand, feeling along the walls and stairs in the dark castle. He made his way slowly to Madame Moretta's classroom, trying to step as softly as possible. The stones did not squeak as the floorboards at the manor did, and Harry had the fleeting thought that he would never be able to slip out of Snapdragon Manor quietly unless he jumped out the window. But he made it to the classroom door and tapped softly on the wood.

The door swung open, and Harry saw the dark haired teacher sitting behind her desk with her hands pressed together. Two black candles stood on the desk. He dropped the Cloak as he entered and draped it over one of the students' desks.

"Hello, Harry," she began to smile, and then she straightened her face. "Come have a seat." She pointed to the chair in front of her.

Harry sat down in front of her, resting his arms on the wooden arms of the chair.

"I'm glad you could come," Madame Moretta said, her eyes glittering in the lamplight. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," Harry said, trying not to look nervous.

"Good," the teacher nodded. "Very good. Let me just light these candles."

She took out her wand and tapped the top of one candle. The wick flared up into flames.

Harry thought he felt something in the room – something real and alive and hungry. But nothing happened.

She tapped the other candle, and it burst into flames as well.

Harry looked at her for a moment, barely breathing. And then he felt the room turn cold right before everything turned pitch black.

He yelled, but the darkness seemed to swallow his voice, and he felt nothing but icy fear clutching at him. He tried to scramble back, but his arms were glued to the wooden arms of the chair. He couldn't move, and it was getting colder and darker.

"Help?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

Something slithered by his foot. He tried to pull his feet up, but they were stuck to the ground, and he had no control over his body except his screaming.

The thing slithered near his leg, and Harry knew it was a snake. He tried to speak to it in Parselmouth, but he couldn't get the right words out.

The snake was now over his lap. It was curling closer and closer to his chest, its huge head near his heart. Harry tried to turn his head away, wishing he could fling the huge creature off.

Then suddenly it slipped off, but before Harry could breathe a sigh of relief, a small gray light rose out of the darkness. Harry watched the light. It wasn't comforting – somehow the light seemed cold and dirty, and Harry wished it wouldn't come near him.

And then he saw Voldemort.

The man was standing there in green robes, watching him with red eyes.

Harry struggled against the chair, but he couldn't move.

The Dark Lord was coming closer and closer, a look of cruel pleasure on his face.

"What have we here?" Voldemort smiled. "A little boy, caught in a chair? How very awful – completely at my mercy."

Voldemort reached out with one claw-like hand. Harry strained to turn away, to not let that hand touch him.

"There, there," Voldemort hissed. "Calm down, calm, calm."

He put on hand on Harry's neck. The hand was cold, but Harry swore it burned white hot, and he hissed with pain.

"There, there," Voldemort said again. "Stay calm." He smoothed Harry's hair, brushing back his fringe with his burning thumbs. "No good screaming – no one can hear you."

"Get away from me," Harry tried to twist his head free.

"Oh, dear, sweet boy," Voldemort bend until Harry could see his red eyes, could smell his breath full of death, "I'm not going to kill you right away. Your friends – yes, they will die. But you, you will be my pet. After, of course, I cut out your tongue and break your legs so you have to crawl on your hands to follow me."

Harry twisted violently, his skin burning.

"But I'll be lenient," Voldemort whispered into his ear, so close Harry could feel his foul breath ruffling his hair. "You can choose which friends I kill right off and which I torture for a few months. But I won't cut your ears off, because I want you to hear their screaming."

Harry felt like he was on fire. With a hoarse cry, he wrenched free of the chair and fell past Voldemort onto the floor.

"Oh, good," the man laughed. "I do like a fighting opponent. So much more fun to beat and humiliate."

Harry jumped to his feet and reached into his pocket for his wand. It wasn't there. Desperately, he began patting his clothes for the wand.

Voldemort shouted out a laugh, his evil voice filled the darkness. "Poor stupid boy, comes to fight me without a weapon."

Harry wanted to step back, but he summoned all his courage and stepped forward. "Didn't you know? I am the weapon."

It sounded completely stupid; Harry realized that as soon as the words left his lips. But they infuriated Voldemort.

"Arrogant brat, I'll kill you right here."

"Try!" Harry challenged, wishing he sounded braver than he did. "I'll tear you apart with my hands. I'm not scared of you."

"Stupid, stupid boy!" Voldemort snarled, his eyes flashing with malice. "You have no one – no parents, no godfather, just a foolish old man who totters with a cane."

"Oh," Harry broke into a painful grin, "don't you know? I have someone else on my side. Someone who would fight for me to his dying breath."

"Who?" Voldemort demanded fiercely. "Who is he?"

"Don't you wish you knew?" Harry sneered.

Voldemort vanished along with the darkness. Harry felt the chair beneath him, and he opened his eyes to find himself back in the classroom.

Moretta was seating in front of him. Her dark hair lay around her face in tangles, and she was pale and breathing hard.

"What – what was that?" Harry panted, shaking all over

She said nothing, just kept staring at him. The candles in front of her had burnt down to nothing; even the black wax was gone.

"I saw Voldemort," Harry gasped. "He was threatening me. He was going to kill me. Was that real? Was it a vision?"

"I don't know," Moretta finally stammered. "But you passed . . . you passed."

"This was a test," Harry said sharply.

"Of course, you must be ready."

Harry thought he saw tears glisten in her eyes, but then she stood up and walked to the door. She opened it and held out for him, her face masked and devoid of emotion.

"You must go back to your dormitory. Say nothing of this. You must go back."

Harry stood up and headed for the door. He waited for her to say something else, but she shut the door behind him, closing him out in the hallway.

No question about it. He was telling Snape. He would have to word it careful so Snape didn't get suspicious, but there was not a chance in the world he wasn't telling Snape about seeing Voldemort.

Still shaking, Harry headed for the stairs. His legs trembled so badly he had to stop several times to calm himself down. He told himself it was just a vision, just a dream, but it had felt so real. He hated dreams that felt real.

He somehow made it to the tower. Once he got there, he realized he had left his Cloak behind, but he couldn't even think of going back for it. The portrait of the Fat Lady was open an inch or two, and Harry though he was lucky that he left the door open. If the Fat Lady saw him shaking so badly, she would call someone to come help him or order him to the hospital.

Harry crept into the Commons Room. He leaned forward, balancing his hands on his knees and concentrating on just breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out.

The fire suddenly flared to life.

Harry stumbled back with a half-cry, his heart rate spiking crazily. He fumbled for his wand, but his fingers could barely hold it out.

The room brightened with the glow of the fire, and Harry saw Snape sitting in a large red armchair.

"Back already?" Snape inquired politely. "I was sure you would be wandering much later than this. How nice of you to return before one o'clock. Any later and you might have been inconsiderate."

And then Voldemort was no longer Harry's greatest worry.


	7. Hairbrush in the Dungeons

For those of you found my The House That Time Forgot story a little too dark and harsh, here's something notably lighter. Hope you like.

Disclaimer: Neither own nor make a single Silver Sickle

Warning: Spanking in this chapter. If you don't like it, please stop reading here.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"H-how'd you get in here?" Harry stammered.

"I'm a teacher," Snape said coldly.

"So, you can go anywhere you like?" Harry asked.

"Quite so," Snape replied.

Harry felt himself shaking still, and he had nothing to say, nothing he could think of to make it any better.

"Very well," Snape regarded Harry calmly. "let's do this properly."

"Properly?" Harry squeaked, hating himself for sounding so weak.

"Yes, I believe we have set up a sort of repartee, have we not? When you misbehave and blatantly lie to my face?"

"Lie?" Harry choked out, wishing he could stop shaking.

"Indeed, I asked you if anything out of the ordinary had happened, and you said no. I asked you if I need to know anything and you said no. Yet, here you stand, out past curfew and shaking like leaf, so I gather something did happen in your time with Madame Moretta."

"You knew?"

"Of course, I knew," Snape stood, and Harry shrank back.

"This is the-the Commons Rooms," Harry stammered. "They'll hear if – if –"

"No, we're going down to my room. Where's your Cloak?"

"I left it behind," Harry confessed.

"Then you will have to get it tomorrow," Snape decided. He held out his hand insistently. "Come along."

Harry dragged his feet to Snape's side, but once he reached him, the older man grabbed his wrist. With a whirl of robe, Snape started for the door, pulling a reluctant Harry with him. Nervous and dizzy, Harry would have chosen quick Apparation to Snape's office rather than a long walk down there, pulled by a very displeased adopted father.

They reached the dungeons, and Snape flung open his door to his office. He pulled Harry inside and sat him down in a big armchair.

"Snape –" Harry began

"Quiet," Snape directed. He snatched up an old quilt and tucked the soft cover over Harry. "Calm down. Just rest here for a moment. No, don't move."

Harry leaned back in the armchair, clutching the top of quilt anxiously. He felt jittery as if he had drunk ten cups of coffee right in a row, his nerves on pins and needles.

Snape walked over the fireplace and took a kettle off the small flames. He conjured up a cup and saucer before pouring the hot water into the cup and adding tea leaves. A cup of hot tea seemed the best thing in the world to Harry, and he gratefully took it from Snape's hand and began to sip it.

The hot liquid soothed Harry's parched tongue and sore throat, and he thought he could have sat there all evening, enjoying the tea. But then Snape pulled out a large bottle of something dark and nasty and picked up a big spoon as well.

Harry tried to look away. He didn't mind taking potions – well, he still didn't like the taste or the feel of the disgusting mixture in his mouth, but he supposed living with a potions master meant he would have to take more potions than most people. And he had the strong feeling Snape rather liked dosing him frequently, proving once and for all that Serverus Snape could keep Harry Potter healthier than anyone.

But Harry absolutely hated having to take potions from a spoon. In a vial that he held himself and could toss back like a shot of firewhiskey – that was fine. But when Snape held out the full spoon and Harry had to open his mouth and swallow it – he felt all of about five years old.

This time was no different. Snape brought the spoon (so big Harry wasn't sure he could get it in his mouth) filled with something very yucky. "Take it," Snape ordered.

Harry took in all the potion, but he kept it in his mouth, refusing to swallow because his tongue would have to touch it and he kept his tongue down at the back of his mouth, letting the black stuff ooze around his teeth.

"Swallow it," Snape told him.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Oh, nasty – nasty! He grabbed the tea cup and gulped down tea, trying to rid the awful taste from his mouth.

"One more," Snape lifted the bottle to pour another dose.

"No, no, no," Harry hastily assured him. "I'm feeling much better."

"You're still shaking."

"It's cold down here. And I'm not sick, just rather jumpy after what I saw."

Snape gave him a doubtful look, but corked the bottle and set it aside. "All right, then let's talk about what you saw. No, you're not to get excited. Just rest there and talk to me calmly."

In short, stammering sentences, Harry told Snape what had happened, from going to meet Moretta late that night to the candles and the vision. To Harry's bewilderment, Snape did not seem shocked by what had happened. Snape questioned him carefully about exactly what he had seen, going over the last part with Voldemort three times before Snape was satisfied.

"Good, good," Snape mused, looking very thoughtful. "It was just what I thought. She knew you could do it, but I wanted the exact particulars examined first. But you got through. Very good."

"But what does it mean?" Harry asked. "Was Voldemort really there? Was that a vision? I got away – does this mean I win?"

"It was not the real Dark Lord," Snape told him. "But that doesn't mean any more or less for your confrontation with him. This test was about you, not him."

"Then you're not angry?" Harry asked nervously.

"About your seeing the Dark Lord? Oh, no, not at all about that. Care for some more tea?"

Harry watched suspiciously as Snape took his cup and refilled it. Snape was acting far too pleasant for Harry to feel any real peace about the matter. He expected Snape to yell and lecture, not serve tea.

"There you go," Snape handed him back a full cup. "Drink that, and let's get you to bed. You look very pale and worn out, and a good's night's sleep will do you more good than anything else now."

"Right," Harry agreed awkwardly. He started sipping the tea, wondering if Snape had poisoned it.

"You can sleep down here tonight," Snape turned towards his desk. "It's late now. You can sleep late in the morning, and I'll leave some breakfast for you. But I'll make sure to come back and spank you around eleven so you won't miss lunch."

Harry closed his eyes in despair. He knew that was coming. He knew it, and blast  
Snape for lulling him into a sense of false security. Snape was always trying to get him comfortable and safe and then unnerving him with the promise of hard discipline.

"I'll transform the sofa for you," Snape said as if he had been discussing what they would eat tomorrow. "Do you want an extra blanket?"

"You can't just say that and expect me to sleep," Harry said, panic crowding his voice. "You know I can't sleep now, and I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Harry," Snape said quietly.

"No, I didn't! She asked me to come and to tell no one. She asked me and she's a teacher and – and she asked me."

"That is true," Snape nodded seriously.

"What was I supposed to do when she asked me?" Harry babbled on. "Tell her no? And you knew the whole time so what does it matter? You knew what was going on, and I just went along because she told me, and she's a teacher."

"And have all teachers, new teachers especially, had your best interest in mind?" Snape's eyes were steady but intense. "Have all your teachers been good, upstanding men and women who want nothing but the best for you?"

"Uh . . ." Harry stalled for time.

"I admit Lockhart was an idiot, but Quirell? Barty Crouch Jr. as Mad-Eye? Umbridge?"

"Lupin was good," Harry protested.

"As a human, yes, but what about nights of the full moon? He would have torn you apart the night Black escaped if he could have."

"So I should have told you? About Moretta?"

"Yes!" Snape slapped his hand down on the desk, the first sign of his temper showing. "Yes, yes, always yes! I adopted you because we both wanted it, but I am here to keep you safe. So when you start lying to me, I have to take my own desperate measures. One of which includes Draco spying on you. My first concern is your safety, always, no excuses. Your first concern is doing exactly what I tell you. When I want the truth, you give it to me right then, in whole, no excuses. You lie to me, you decide you know best and go off with a teacher you've only known a week, and then I spank you good and hard. End of discussion."

It was so beastly unfair and comforting at the same time.

"You don't always have my best intentions in mind," Harry muttered.

"Excuse me?" Snape looked murderous.

"Yeah, all those Death Eater meetings. If you had died at them, who would look after me then? No one, so there!" It was perhaps the worst argument Harry had ever come up with, but he felt tired and irritable and even more jittery now that Snape had announced what would happen. Life was all fun and games, until Snape slammed down the foot and then Harry wished he had never signed that stupid adoption paper.

"Don't waste my time by arguing," Snape said flatly. "Drink the rest of your tea and you're going to bed."

"I can't sleep with that hanging over my head," Harry declared. "You know I can't sleep."

"I'm tired," Snape announced. "And I think it might do you good to spend a whole night thinking about what's coming to you. Keep you out of trouble until then."

"You're mad," Harry announced. "You're daft if you think I'm going to bed. You do it now or not at all." He expected Snape to grow irritated and grab him for the punishment, but instead Snape shook his head.

"No, Harry, there is nothing you can say to persuade me to change my mind. Go into the bathroom and brush your teeth."

A few minutes later, Harry lay on the sofa-turned-bed in the office. Snape had left for his own room, and Harry had nothing to do but lay in bed in the dark and think. His stomach churned and clenched and turned as he thought over the vision with Voldemort and his fright at seeing Snape in the Gryffindor Commons Room and his dread over getting punished the next morning. Really, it was the worst form of torture Snape could give him. At least ten more hours before Snape would bend him over his lap and smack the naughtiness out of him . . . ten more long, long hours.

Harry shifted on the bed. He wasn't quite sure how he got into situations like these – he had been doing everything right, and suddenly he found himself in hot water, in deep trouble for nothing. He understood Snape's part of it; Snape's point of view always seemed reasonable and just once the man explained everything. But blast if Harry could ever see it before he got himself into trouble.

Harry rolled onto his side, hoping that would help him get to sleep. The bed was narrow, only a few inches wider than the original sofa, and Harry didn't understand why Snape didn't make it bigger. Maybe that was part of punishment – lie and sneak out at night and then he had to sleep on a narrow bed. And the air felt cold in the dungeon. Outside, the nights had not turned cold yet, but the dungeons were cold year round. Harry pulled up the blankets under his chin a little tighter.

He rolled back onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. Even in the dark, he could see the beams running through the stone and plaster. He wondered if lower ceilings would have kept the rooms warmer. Heat rose naturally, so it would be hotter higher up unless the room were bewitched which they probably weren't and why could he get to sleep already?

Harry rolled onto his stomach. Sometimes that helped him feel tired, to feel the soft bed under his chest and let the warmth soothe his heartbeat. He let out his breath with a huff, wondering if he breathed deeper he might feel tired quicker. Maybe he could go over a list of herbs from herbology, let's see there was mandrake, rosemary, witch hazel –

The door to Snape's room opened suddenly, and Snape barged out.

"That's it," Snape snarled. "It's two in morning, and I can hear you in here tossing, turning, and huffing. I need sleep, you need sleep, and you're going to sleep if it's the last thing you do."

Snape yanked the covers back and pushed Harry down into the bed with one hand. A second of silence, and then something slammed down on Harry's bottom.

Harry arched his back at the sudden pain. "Ugh! What's that?"

"A hairbrush," Snape snapped before whacking the wooden back of the brush down again.

"Ow! You're so cruel," Harry gasped, trying to deal with the swats. The dreaded ruler at Snapdragon Manor hadn't been nearly as bad, considering that the brush was heavier and covered twice as much space as the ruler.

A part of Harry felt good that he had successfully started the punishment process now and he knew it had to end sometime, but for now – he gritted his teeth and tried to take it stoically. His thin pajama bottoms offered little protection, and Harry found himself grunting and hissing by the tenth swat. Every time, he swore he wouldn't cry, but Snape had this horrid technique of smacking him a dozen times and then starting to lecture.

And if Harry had to be really, really honest with himself, he would admit the lecturing got him each and every time. The spankings hurt – oh, they hurt quite a bit, but the scolding broke him down in the end. Snape managed to make him feel very guilty to begin with, but Snape helped that feeling come into fruition during the spanking by reminding him why they were doing it. And then the tears came freely. Harry kept hoping there might be a time when he did not feel guilty and therefore he would not cry. However, so far that had all been a vain hope.

This time proved no different; he felt his eyes starting to prickle and sting, and he felt absolutely awful for trying to betray Snape's trust again.

". . . don't know how many times more I have to pound the fact into your stubborn head," Snape continued between cracks of the hairbrush. "You will not lie to me."

"I know, I know," Harry panted. He had his hands under his pillow, gripping handfuls of the under-sheet for dear life.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Snape demanded before landing more wallops.

"Ow! I don't know. Ah! I mean, yes, I knew you would find out . . . eventually. Oh! Not so hard! Yes, I knew you would find out right away."

"And why did you lie then if you knew I would find out?"

"Be-because I didn't think you'd let me go see her."

"And if I did refuse to let you go, what then?"

"Would have been for a g-good reason," Harry cried.

"That's right. I – always – have – my – reasons!" Snape brought the brush down on each word. He paused for a second, and then he gave Harry one last tremendous smack.

Harry gave a hoarse cry and dropped his face into the pillow to fight it out.

"All right," Snape said in a quieter tone, "that's over for now. No, now hush, no reason to carry on so."

"That hurt," Harry's voice was muffled in the pillow.

"Yes, I'm sure it did. And next time you better remember this before you start lying to me."

Harry turned his head to face Snape, his red eyes surrounded by damp lashes. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling the need to reply to the sharp correction he had just received.

"I know," Snape said. He put a hand on Harry's head, the same hand that had just wheedled the hairbrush, and tried to smooth down a few pieces of hair that stood up defiantly. "You need another haircut."

"I like it," Harry mumbled. Already, his eyelids felt heavy, and he pulled his hands out from under the pillow and rested them loosely by his head. He saw no reason to try and move, not when it felt so good to just lie there in overwhelming exhaustion. Snape's hand felt nice over his hair, distracting him a little from the burn of his bottom. Harry might could have reached back to rub out the sting, but that would have required way too much effort, and he chose instead to lie like a puddle on the narrow bed.

"Are you calm enough to go to sleep?" Snape asked from somewhere far above him.

Harry gave the smallest of nods before his eyelids slid shut.

"Good boy," Snape decided. He pulled the covers back up, making sure they covered Harry's hands as well. "I guess I don't have to tell you to stay here until morning, do I?"

No answer came from the narrow bed, and Snape knew there would be none. He gave Harry's shoulder a firm pat before going into his own room, leaving the door open a few inches just in case.

------

Harry awoke the next morning, feeling refreshed and well-rested. He rolled over to sit up for a stretch, but immediately thought better of it. He still felt sore, but he knew a shower and breakfast would have him feeling better than anything else would. It felt to wake up with no sense of impending doom hanging over his head. He had not had a nightmare either, always a plus.

He stood and stretched his arms up, surprised at how cold the floor felt to his bare feet. Next he headed towards Snape's room, poking his head into the open door to see if Snape were there. The room was empty so Harry padded into the bathroom.

Snape stood in front of the sink and mirror, a razor in one hand and half his jaw covered in soap.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape demanded.

"I need to – you know," Harry said, wrapping both his arms around his torso for warmth.

"Go to your dorm," Snape told him.

"Come on – I really have to go," Harry tried not to squirm. "And I want to take a shower. Can't you finish somewhere else?"

Snape looked aghast. "You cheeky little –"

"Brat – I know," Harry said quickly. "But if you could go and get me some breakfast, too, I'd really appreciate it."

"Get you some –" Snape broke off speechless.

"I want jam, not marmalade," Harry said as he reached for one of the folded towels. "See if Dobby saved any muffins for me. He does that sometimes."

Snape opened his mouth and then shut it with a snap. He took his razor and towel out into bedroom so Prince Potter could have the whole bathroom. And Snape waited until Harry was in the shower for a few minutes before casting a spell to turn the water cold. The boy's shrill screams were satisfaction enough while Snape tried to scout them out some breakfast.

As they ate, Harry announced his intentions to spend the day studying and hanging out with his friends. Snape glowered and frowned but in the end agreed, saying, "You come back tonight for a haircut. And no getting into trouble."

"Will do," Harry promised, stuffing his mouth full of jam-covered muffin.

Snape looked very displeased at his manners, but Harry swallowed the last bit of muffin and wiped his hands on a napkin. Harry stood, announcing,

"Right, then, I'm off. Thank you for your lovely hospitality, hairbrush excluded."

"No more lying," Snape warned again.

"Yes," Harry nodded, "tonight when I come back, I'll tell you my plans about starting up the DA again."

"What?" Snape thundered, but Harry wasn't fazed.

"Yes, they've asked me to lead them again and I thought you should know, seeing as how you're Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. We're going to have weekly meetings, probably. You could be an honorary speaker at one meeting if you like."

Snape drew in a long breath. "What is it about getting spanked that makes you so unbearably cheeky afterwards? Do you honestly think that you can get away with whatever you like and I won't spank you again so soon, because I will, believe me."

Harry smiled, almost grinned. "Of course, you would. But we'll talk later – I have things to do." He headed towards the door, leaving Snape to mutter about horribly insufferable brats that should be whipped everyday as a precaution.

Harry stopped at the door and turned back. "You know, I was thinking. I think I will fight Voldemort in the end. And I think I'll win too. After all, if I get myself killed, I see you marching into the afterlife to soundly punish me for being so careless. Yeah, that's a good incentive to win."

"Don't be so flippant," Snape rebuked.

"Who's being flippant?" Harry asked without a trace of a smile. "Enjoy your day."

Out in the hallway, Harry saw Worty sitting on the ground, looking very worried. Harry closed Snape's office door behind him and approached the little boy.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Worty looked surprised but he got his feet immediately. "Draco said I had to keep watch and tell them when Professor Snape is coming. Draco said I had to sit here unless he came out, but I've been waiting for hours."

"Well, Snape isn't coming out," Harry told him. "And what say you and me go find Draco? I think I can handle him now."

They both went down the dark hall of the dungeon, Worty hurrying to keep up with Harry.


	8. Squabbling

Yes, two chapters in one day. I rock, but I'm also really tired so there are bound to be mistakes. It's rather short and a lot of talking, but I wanted a little down time for the characters to just relax.

Warning: Talk about corporal punishment. Not all of you will agree with it, but it is simply an opinion and I don't want flames. If you don't like this stuff, you should have stopped reading this story a long time ago.

Disclaimer: Don't own or make any money.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco was lounging against the wall, in a most uncaring attitude, but the moment he saw Harry and Worty, he straightened up.

"What are you doing with him?" Draco demanded. "Get away from him, Worty. You don't wan to get the Potter disease."

Harry was sure the little boy didn't believe Draco, but Worty took a half of a step away from Harry.

"That's it," Harry decided. "Worty, will you excuse us while I have a word with Malfoy?"

"Oh, what are you going to do?" Draco tried to sneer, but he looked slightly worried.

"How about I make you eat another wall?" Harry took a threatening step towards him.

"You can't – Snape will hear."

"Then what say you and I find a quiet place so we can have a good chat?" Harry crossed his arms.

Draco glanced around, but no one else was around. "Fine," he mumbled.

"Fine, what?" Harry retorted.

"Fine, sorry you got your knickers in a twist over the kid," Draco motioned toward Worty. "Bunch of bleeding hearts."

"Worty," Harry turned to the small boy, "did Draco tell you what he did this summer, all the fun he had?"

"Shut up," Draco ordered.

"Why was Worty outside Snape's office?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't he be – I don't know, playing somewhere?"

"What are you – his nanny?" Draco scoffed. "I told him to watch Snape's door because that's the only way he'll be safe."

Harry felt even more annoyed, guessing that this wasn't going anywhere pleasant. "Because?"

"Because Snape's a vampire," Draco grinned. "And the only way to keep him from seeking up on you is to watch his door all day long."

Harry resisted the urge to pop Draco in the nose. "That makes no sense," Harry said. "For one thing, vampires can't go around in the sunlight, and Snape went outside yesterday."

"Oh, yeah," Worty realized. He glared at Draco, "Yeah! That's right."

"And vampires don't eat regular food, and you've seen him at mealtimes, eating like regular people," Harry continued.

"Yeah!" Worty scowled at Draco.

"And how is watching a door going to save anyone? If you ever see a monster, you run, don't sit around and stare at doors."

Worty bared his teeth at Draco. Had he been any older, he might have gone and hit Draco, but instead he continued to give the blond death glares.

"I was just having a bit of a laugh," Draco grumbled. "He's just a kid."

"Worty," Harry turned to him calmly, "did you know Snape is Draco's god-father?"

"Really?" the little boy's eyes widened.

"Yes, and do you know what Snape does to Draco when he's bad?"

"I'll hex you into next week," Draco growled, pulling at his wand.

"_Accio_ wand!" Harry shouted. To Draco's shock, his own wand actually flew out of his hand and into Harry's.

"See?" Harry showed Worty both wands. "Draco can't even keep track of his own – omph!"

Draco tackled him, knocking him to the ground. Both wands fell from Harry's hand, but he was too busy pushing against Draco to care.

"Go, go, go!" Worty cheered as he watched the two older boys grapple on the floor.

"Gonna rip your face off," Draco grunted, trying to mash Harry's face in the floor as Harry grabbed Draco's own face.

They rolled and pushed and growled without doing too much damage.

"Just like summer," Harry said around Draco's hand. "Too much a mummy's boy to fight."

"We'll see about that," Draco snarled.

"I bet she still spoon feeds you," Harry taunted. He had no idea where that idea came from, but it worked because Draco looked livid.

"You shut up about my mother," he ordered.

"She probably tucks you in at night with a bottle and lets you suck your thumb!" he hollered, pushing Draco aside. Harry rolled over and tried to grab onto a stone of the floor to pull himself away, but Draco jumped on him.

"You're dead, Potter," Draco roared. "Enjoy this floor because you'll be a permanent part of it now!"

Harry grunted as Draco grabbed him by the back of the neck. Harry looked down at the floor, knowing his face was about to be smushed into it, and he wondered if he deserved it or not.

"Boys!" a male voice bellowed from behind them.

Immediately, Draco scrambled to his feet, and Harry stood up a second later. Snape stood in the hallway, furious. Worty ducked behind a stone pillar, trying to look invisible.

"Oh, there they are!" Harry pointed to the floor. "Draco and I were looking for our wands. See, Draco, I told you they were nearby."

"You're right, there they are," Draco stooped down and grabbed both wands. "Here's yours, Potter."

"Thanks," Harry took his wand. "Good as new. I'm sorry, Professor Snape, did you need something?"

Snape looked a second away from crossing the space between them and boxing both their ears. "Let's try to keep it down out here," Snape ground out. "I would hate to give you both detention on such a nice day."

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded, and Harry put on his best angelic face.

"Mr. Commultington," Snape snapped.

Worty's face went white, but he stepped out from the pillar. "Yes, s-sir?" the little boy stammered.

"I need to have a word with you in my office," Snape said sternly. "Please come with me."

Casting a terrified look at Harry and Draci, Worty slowly started towards Snape.

"Uh, wait," Harry objected.

Snape gave him a warning look, and Harry amended, "I mean, I just wanted to tell Worty that we'll be outside. Maybe he would like to play by the lake this afternoon? Come find us later, Worty."

Harry tried to give Snape his best "Be nice to him" look, but Snape pretended not to see it or, if he did, not to understand it.

"Mr. Commultington," Snape ordered.

As soon as the small boy stepped past him, Snape ushered him down the hall and towards the office. Worty gave one last pitiful look back to the older boys before Snape made him go into the office and the door shut behind them.

"So," Draco turned to Harry, "you want to listen at the door?"

"Are you mad?" Harry replied. "And have Snape find us?"

"He won't know we're there," Draco insisted.

"Right. And Voldemort's just a snuggly teddy bear. You're an idiot."

"Fine," Draco shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't want to do anything with you," Harry retorted. "You were spying on me."

"You already got me for that," Draco returned. "And just so you know, I don't like people slamming me into walls."

"Well, I don't like people spying on me," Harry stepped up to Draco.

"You're looking for a bit of a tussle?" Draco challenged. "I didn't want to do much with the kid watching, but now I'll break every one of your teeth out of your mouth."

"All break your Pureblood nose," Harry did not back down.

"I'll rearranged your face and erase that scar," Draco stepped up as well. "I'll –"

The office door opened, and Snape stepped out halfway to glare at both boys. "Don't even think about it," he warned. "If I have to come back out here –" Snape let ominous silence hang in the air before he went back into the office and shut the door.

"What's he doing in there with Worty anyway?" Harry wondered.

"Who cares?" Draco hopped up on the waist-high ledge and casually leaned against the wall. "Why do you care so much about the tyke?"

"I dunno," Harry admitted. "I feel sorry for him – he seems so small."

"You were that small when you first came here," Draco remarked.

"Maybe that's why I understand how he feels," Harry confessed. "It's hard on the first years."

"So you were home-sick," Draco rolled his eyes. "Boo-hoo, cry your eyes out."

"I wasn't homesick," Harry said, refusing to get riled up again. "I loved coming to Hogwarts, and I still do. But I felt lonely and isolated and – oh, what? You never felt lonely?"

"No," Draco replied, "I've always had friends."

"Where are those friends?" Harry spread both of his arms out. "Where is your faithful – what do you call them? Entourage? Henchmen?"

"They're around," Draco muttered.

"Yeah, that's why you're hanging out with the Half-Blooded freak," Harry sneered. "Aren't you worried your family will find out you're talking to me?"

Draco glared at him, but then Harry asked,

"By the way, how did the rest of the summer go?"

"Fine," Draco shrugged. "Just hung out at the Manor. Thought about sneaking over to Snape's, but Mother took me to get new clothes. What about you?"

"Snape adopted me," Harry couldn't help grinning, especially when Draco looked livid. "Yeah, official paperwork," Harry tried not to look too satisfied with himself. "All legal, and snarky git made me his heir, too. His idea, of course."

Draco looked overwhelmed, but then the livid look began to turn into jealousy and something close to hurt, prompting Harry to quip,

"But you understanding, I plan to turn him Gryffindor in the end. No more of this Slytherin business. Before you know it, you'll be begging to come over to our side, and Hogwarts will only have three houses . . ."

"You're dead," Draco pushed himself off the ledge, but Harry was already running, trying not to laugh.

-----

He and Draco hung out until lunchtime, finding a quiet corner of the castle to sit around and talk about nothing. Harry stopped by Gryffindor Tower to get the toy Snitch Snape had given him during the summer, and he and Draco played around with it for while. Draco could run after it faster, but Harry had faster reflexes so they were pretty evenly matched.

Of course, there was a great deal of bragging about who would win at Quidditch this year. Draco was not happy to hear that the ban on Harry had been lifted, and Harry told him that the ban was the only chance Slytherin could win at all, which led to some more scuffling until the ignored Snitch thudded on Harry's head.

By the time, the bell rang for lunch, Harry was very hungry from running around. At the door of the Great Hall, Draco headed for the Slytherin table and Harry went to join Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

"Where were you?" Hermione demanded the moment Harry sat down. "We were studying this morning."

"You were?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ron said, wearing a martyr's face, "for two hours on a Sunday morning. Welcome to sixth year."

"Stop complaining," Hermione snapped. "You'll thank me later."

"That's what you've been saying for five years," Ron replied. "Five years, and not once have I wanted to thank you. Well maybe, in our first year looking for the Stone. And our second with the whole pipes/huge snake thing."

"Let's not forget when she saved Sirius and Buckbeak," Harry reminded him, starting to eat.

"All right," Ron said shortly. "But only those times."

"And every class she helps us," Harry grinned wickedly at Ron. "Otherwise someone would be repeating a year."

Ron looked murderous, and Harry added,

"I'm talk about myself, of course."

"Stop it, boys," Hermione leaned in closer to them. "We want to know what happened last night. I thought about waiting up, but I got tired. Ron said you never came back to bed."

"Well," Harry lowered to his voice, "I met with Moretta. And I saw Voldemort."

"Harry!" Hermione reached over and smacked his shoulder. "You're telling us this now?"

"Sorry," Harry gave his shoulder a quick rub. "But it was in a vision thing, and I got away. I woke up and Moretta looked crazy so I left. And I left my Cloak there, too! And then I went to Commons Room, and Snape was there."

"What?" Ron looked outraged. "That's for Gryffindors, not Slytherins."

"But he's a teacher," Hermione pointed out. "I guess teachers can go anywhere they choose in the castle. What did Snape say about your vision?"

"Well, he knew about it all along," Harry confessed. "He was all mysterious about it, telling me that it was about me, not Voldemort, whatever that means. Why can't anyone ever give me an honest answer? Instead, they throw out all these cryptic sayings that I'll never understand until it's too late, and of course then I look stupid."

"So are you still in trouble?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Harry came out of his self-degrading grumbling to glance at her.

"Snape found that you were sneaking around," Hermione pointed out. "I know he didn't like you wandering after curfew before, but with the whole new, you know," she looked meaningful, not wanting to say _adoption_ with some many people close, "he must have been furious."

"Is that what happened?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food. "He take you to the dungeon and rake you over the coals?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered.

"Ha," Ron snorted after swallowed. "Not all it's reported to be, eh?"

"What?" Harry's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Parents," Ron replied. "Everybody wants them, and then you get them and they're all over you. Pain in the –"

"Ron," Hermione warned. "And you're completely wrong. Parents are wonderful things to have. I have my parents to thank for everything I am."

"Thank you, Grangers," Ron muttered.

"My parents were so supportive when they got the letter from Hogwarts," Hermione went on, ignoring Ron. "Imagine two dentists, wanting me to go to a private college, and then I started setting my bed on fire."

Harry and Ron stared at her.

"I didn't mean to," she told them. "I was playing with my toys, and I pretend that my bed was a forest on fire that my dolls had to get across. So I kept saying 'Burning, burning fire.' And then my bed caught fire."

"What did your parents do?" Ron asked.

"I told them I didn't know how the bed caught fire, and I was so frightened, my dad held me and let me pick a book for him to read."

"Sounds about right," Ron scoffed. "My mum would have hung me out by ears. What about you, Harry? Snape read you a story last night? Or did he do the normal thing and take kitchen spoon to you?"

Harry's cheeks flushed red, but Hermione glared at Ron.

"Ronald, really! No hits a teenager with a wooden spoon anymore."

"Tell that to my mum," Ron said into his food.

"Well, your family's different," Hermione pointed out. When Ron looked indignant, Hermione explained, "Seven children? Six of them boys, two of them twins? I would be using a spoon, too, if I were your mother. But one Harry? Come on, Snape has a very easy job of it."

"Does Snape agree with her?" Ron turned to Harry, refusing to admit that Hermione might have a point.

"Snape doesn't agree with anyone," Harry sidestepped the question.

Ron grinned. "Can't imagine how he tortures you. You walked right into that trap, mate. He must have wanted to get even, just a little."

"Yeah, a little," Harry admitted. He wondered how quickly he could finish his food and get out of there before Ron asked too many questions.

"Ron, leave him alone," Hermione told him. "Obviously Snape reprimanded him, and he doesn't want to talk about."

Harry wondered if his face would catch fire like Hermione's bed.

"Oh, please," Ron retorted. "After all the times he's seen me get in trouble with my parents, it's high time I get some back. The time we drove the car, who got a Howler and who got nothing?"

"This is different," Hermione insisted.

"Yeah, the whole school doesn't know that Harry's in trouble," Ron retorted. "In my case, everyone knew!"

"You were twelve and decided to fly a car!" Hermione snapped. "A six-year-old would have better sense than that."

"Well, pardon me, Miss Perfect," Ron said. "We all don't get held and read to when we make a mess."

"The fire? An accident. Flying from London to Hogwarts? A death wish," Hermione told him. "Of all the childish, foolish, insane –"

"'Childish, foolish, insane'," Ron mocked in a falsetto voice.

"Stop it, Ronald!" Hermione ordered.

"'Stop it, Ronald'," Ron mocked again.

"I mean it!"

"I mean –"

"Snape spanks me!" Harry blurted out, unable to take the fighting.

They both fell silent, staring at him.

"Harry?" Hermione's mouth fell open. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

"Ha," Ron snorted, recovering from his shock. "Is that it?"

"Is that it?" Hermione looked outraged.

"Yeah, it embarrassing," Ron admitted. "But what's the big deal? I thought it was going to be something like the Cruciatus Curse or removing your fingers."

"Snape hits him!" Hermione hissed.

"So?" Ron asked. "Snape wallops him a few times? My dad's done the same to me and my brothers. Ginny's got it a few times, too."

"Your dad hit Ginny?" Harry jerked in his seat.

"Have you met my sister?" Ron replied dryly. "We've all gotten it at one time or another. Me, not as much though. I learned watching Fred and George. I quickly discovered I shouldn't stay around when they started cooking up schemes, or I'd have to line up with them to face mum and dad."

Hermione still looked horrified. "Harry, you have to report this."

"Report what?" Ron asked. "Unless Snape's hitting him across the face or cutting him – he's not, right, mate?"

"No," Harry didn't know where to look.

"Then who cares? Besides, can't be any worse than living with his relatives. Do you know what they used to do to him?"

Harry wanted the conversation to be over. He felt he had revealed enough for a long while yet, and he wished he could change the conversation to something else.

"He won't be going back to his relatives," Hermione said shrilly. "Harry, did he beat you all night?"

"No," Harry said hastily, praying no one could overhear them. Their table was mostly empty, but who knew what nosy students were listening. "I just – you know, went to sleep down in his study. I was tired and er, that's all."

"I don't like this," Hermione decided.

"What else is new?" Ron quipped. "You've got to loosen up, Hermione. You're wound so tight, you'll never get a bloke at this rate."

Harry could almost feel the air turn cold as Hermione turned slowly on Ron.

"I beg your pardon?" she looked ready to tear Ron apart. "I can't get a bloke? Who went out with Viktor Krum while he was here?"

"That was two years ago," Ron told her.

"He still writes," she protested.

"He does? What does that lout have to say to you? I didn't think he could read, let alone write."

"I'll have you know he's sent me beautiful letters," Hermione was growing louder. "He would write me poetry if I asked him to."

Harry got from the table, knowing they would be arguing for some time yet. As he got up, he saw Worty at the Slytherin table. The little boy sat beside Draco and seemed to be eating so Harry saw no reason to stop at their table.

Harry had just made it to the doorway of the room which led to the stairs when Madame Moretta blocked his way.

"Come with me," she ordered. "I have something you must see."


	9. Faking

AN: Here's another chapter - hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here and make nothing either.

* * *

Harry looked over his shoulder. He could see Snape's empty seat at the teacher's table, right beside McGonagall.

Many thoughts flashed through Harry's mind as he stood there with Madame Moretta. First and foremost, he knew he could not go with Moretta, not after what had happened. But how could he refuse a teacher? If he shook her head and refused to go, everyone within earshot would be shocked at his arrogant behavior.

If he could get McGonagall's attention, she might fetch Snape, and Snape might come help him out. But how could Snape do it without alerting everyone that he cared about the Boy-Who-Lived when Snape was supposed to be a Death Eater? But no matter what happened, Harry knew one thing absolutely crystal clear – he did not want to be spanked again. If he went the rest of his life with never feeling Snape's heavy hand against his rear – well, that would be just fine with Harry. And he knew if he went with her again, off to some strange place, Snape would be furious.

"Are you all right?" Moretta asked, stepping close to Harry.

And Harry used her suggestion as an escape. He made a gasping, choking sort of noise and fell to his knees.

Immediately, the students near the door went quiet, and across the room Hermione stood up, looking concerned.

Harry decided to keep up the act. He clutched at his forehead, pressing his fingers into his scar and dry heaving, on the floor on his knees and one hand.

"He's possessed," a female student cried from behind him.

"Get away from him!" another student cried. "He's having a fit."

"You-Know-Who is going to attack us!" someone else hollered shrilly. "Every time his scar burns, _he_ attacks."

"We're dead - we're dead!"

Harry thought they were taking it a bit far, and he considered playing down his act, maybe shakily getting to his feet and saying the worst was over. He began to push himself up when an arm assisted him.

"Careful, Mr. Potter," McGonagall kept her arm around him as Harry straightened. "Deep breaths."

"What's wrong with him?" Moretta asked, drawing back a few feet.

"I don't know, but we'll soon find out," McGonagall decided. "I'll take him to the hospital wing right away."

"No,' Harry tried to turn to look at her, "I'm fine now."

"Nonsense, Potter," McGonagall pressed her lips together. "Madame Pomfrey would be furious if I didn't insist you go there, you of all people. You how she worries about you."

As McGonagall spoke, she started marching him towards the stairs, and Harry realized that Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were following them.

"I'm fine, really," Harry tried to whisper to his stern teacher as she kept a firm arm around his waist, giving him support and using her hand on his elbow to guide him along. "Moretta wanted me to go with her and –"

"Professor?" Hermione sounded worried. "Is he all right? This happened last year, when he was possessed by –"

"We won't jump to conclusions until we see Pomfrey," McGonagall interrupted. "Mr. Longbottom, can I trouble you to tell the headmaster that Mr. Potter has been taken ill?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neville turned away, heading for Dumbledore's study.

"Nothing's wrong," Harry protested, but they soon reached the hospital rooms. Madame Pomfrey was seated at a table, reading a book while she ate a light lunch. She saw McGongall, Harry, and the other three students, and she closed her book abruptly.

"Not even a whole week," she shook her head as she hurried to her feet, "and you're here, Mr. Potter. Sit him down on the bed. Mr. Weasley, please open the bottom drawer of that bureau over there – in the right-hand corner I keep a pair of pajamas Mr. Potter's size. I believe in being prepared."

"I'm not sick," Harry tried to tell her, but the nurse already had him sitting on the bed. She unbuttoned his collar and felt his forehead.

"He's very warm," she told the anxious group who were watching Harry as if he would explode at any moment.

"I was running around before lunch," Harry objected. "I playing with a Snitch with Dra- er, somebody, and it's still warm outside."

"I knew I should have looked you over when you first came back," Pomfrey _tsk_ed. "But he promised you were healthy, properly looked after for summer, he claimed, which is quite a change from your usual appearance each September. When he agreed at the beginning summer, I told him you must be healthy and somewhat happy or he would have me to deal with. And now look at you."

Harry watched Luna, worried. She was the only person who did not know about Snape and the adoption, but Luna kept staring at Harry with a calm, quite gaze.

"Found 'em," Ron held up a pair of pajamas as if they were the prize after hours of searching.

"Good, help Mr. Potter into them," Madame Pomfrey began pulling the curtains closed around his bed.

"I don't need –" Harry began, but Pomfrey replied,

"You will get into those pajamas and into bed at once, Mr. Potter, or I will employ some of Professor Snape's techniques myself."

Harry felt his face flame dark red – did everyone know Snape spanked him? – but Ron seemed more concerned with helping Harry into bed than anything else.

"I'm really fine," Harry whispered to him as he slipped the pajama top on. "I just did it to – well, distract –"

"No talking," Pomfrey demanded from the other side of the curtain. "Get into bed."

Harry felt completely ridiculous as he got into bed in the red pajamas in the middle of the day when he was perfectly healthy. He felt even more absurd when Pomfrey started her inspection, taking his temperature, peering into his eyes, and pulling out her wand to do several diagnosis tests of him for physical and magical ailments.

"Well, he's exhausted," the nurse decided halfway through her tests. "Completely worn out."

"I was up late last night," Harry told her, trying to sit up.

She pushed him back against the pillows as she took his pulse. "I have told the whole staff over and over again that he is delicate."

"I am not!"

"Relax, Mr. Potter. All this nonsense, doom and gloom hanging over his head – no wonder he's such a nervous, thin thing, prone to a weak constitution."

Madame Pomfrey probably could have continued in such a vein for hours (she had a captive audience hanging on her every word and the subject of her concern trapped in pajamas in a hospital bed), but loud footsteps sounded in the hallway. Everyone turned to look, and Snape rushed into the room. He looked frantic, completely out of breath, but he glanced around anxiously.

"Where is he?" he demanded breathlessly.

Ron stepped back to reveal Harry sitting in bed, propped against many pillows. Snape started towards him, Hermione glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"What happened?" Snape asked McGonagall as he came to the bed and put a hand on Harry's shoulder to convince himself that Harry was still alive.

"He collapsed in the Great Hall," McGonagall explained. "I brought him straight here, and Pomfrey is trying to see what is the matter."

"He collapsed?" Snape asked, his voice sharp. "Is it his scar? Was he saying things? Was he showing physical ailments or just screaming?"

"He was clutching his scar," Ron pointed towards Harry. "Clutching it and screaming. Is it You-Know-Who again?"

"Quiet," Snape barked at him. "Don't speak about him, not while Harry's like this."

"I'm fine," Harry tired to sit up, but Snape held him down with one hand.

"You stay quiet," he told Harry in a hoarse voice. "Lie back and relax – you're going to be all right. The rest of you children, get out."

Ron huffed indignantly, but Hermione grabbed his arm, her eyes suddenly warm and understanding as she looked at Snape. "Come on, Ron – let's go."

"But he said –"

"Come on, Ron," Hermione insisted, pulling him towards the door. "We need to leave. You too, Luna."

"Severus," McGonagall looked at him as soon as the children were gone, "this isn't as bad as you think. It doesn't mean an attack is coming."

"How would you know?" Snape demanded, his voice strained. "How would you know anything about it?"

Both women turned to frown at him, but Harry impulsively reached out and put a hand on Snape's arm.

"Snape? Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?"

Snape looked down at him, haggard and tortured, but McGonagall motioned Madame Pomfrey towards the door.

"Upset him and it will be trouble," the nurse warned Snape, but she followed McGonagall out the door.

"It's going to be all right," Snape rushed to assure Harry. "I swore I would keep you safe. I swore it and I mean it, more than I have meant anything in my life."

"Nothing's wrong with me," Harry confined in a whisper. "Really."

"What are you talking about?" Snape looked bewildered.

"Madame Moretta wanted me to go with her, and I knew I shouldn't so I pretended to be sick," Harry told him. "It was just an act. I'm not sick, not even a little."

Snape's dark eyes stared at him, dumb-struck. Then he bellowed, "What!"

"Severus," Pomfrey scolded from the other room, but Snape paid her no attention.

"This was an act?" Snape demanded, his expression making Harry cringed. "You dared to pretend to be possessed or sick or anything besides healthy and sound?"

"Moretta wanted –"

"I was going to the library to find a potions book when I hear students clamoring about one students getting sick in the Great Hall. I thought I should make sure you weren't sick when I hear another student telling her friends that the precious Harry Potter has been possessed once again. I nearly panicked, fearing I was too late. I ran all the way up here, scared to death, only to find that it was an act?"

"Moretta?" Harry asked weakly.

"If you're not sick now, you're about to be," Snape threatened. "You conniving little brat, how could you do that to me? How could you worry me like that? Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?"

"No, I was trying to do what you said and not go off with strangers," Harry said feebly. "I couldn't think of anything else to do. I'm sorry."

Snape drew in a deep breath, and the tension in the room began to grow stronger and stronger. He stared down at Harry, and Harry sank back into the pillows, wishing he could disappear. Snape gazed down at him, those dark eyes pinning him in the bed.

Harry gave a weak cough.

"Don't you dare," Snape warned. He reached out and gave Harry's ear a sharp tug.

Harry winced, but said nothing.

"You stay good and quiet, and I'll get you out of this. Cause any trouble and you'll be going over my knee the moment we return to the dungeons. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied meekly. He hated the fact that Snape towered over him, and Harry simply took it, but he did not dare voice his objections.

Snape stepped into the other room and shut the door, leaving Harry alone in the hospital dorm. He had spent time in this room every year. Between Voldemort and students learning magic and careless teachers, Harry guessed he had slept in nearly every single bed.

Before he had time to grow completely bored, the door opened and Madame Pomfrey bustled back in.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," she said crisply, "I am releasing you into the hands of your new father. He promises to take excellent care of you, and I want your full assurance that he'll have no trouble from you. Along with your tendency for weak health, you have a way of avoiding those who know best about taking care of you. Should I get such a report from Professor Snape, I will have you back in this bed immediately."

Harry cringed at her patronizing words – somehow everyone thought he was a child now that he had an adopted father to look after him.

"You are to rest this afternoon," the nurse continued as she handed Harry back his clothes. "Now, do try to behave, Mr. Potter."

Snape clapped a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder once he finished dressing, and the potions master marched him out of the hospital without a word. McGonagall had already left, for which Harry was glad. He had enough trouble dealing with Snape and McGonagall separately. Together, they became his worst nightmare as he knew he could never get away with what McGonagall would call "mischief" and Snape would deem "disobedience" when they both were watching.

Once to the dungeons, Snape wasted no time in parking Harry in a chair, shutting the door, and starting to vent his displeasure.

"What were you thinking?" Snape said sharply. "When I said for you to avoid going off with new teachers and getting yourself in dangerous situations, I did not mean for you to start faking fits and pretending to be possessed."

"I never said anything about possession," Harry argued. "I just said my scar hurt."

"Thanks to you, we now have a whole school full of children who think the Dark Lord is about to attack at any moment."

"I'm sorry," Harry insisted. "What should I have done? Gone with her?"

"No, you should have asked politely what she wanted and then proceeded only if you felt safe about it."

"How I am I supposed to know if it's safe or not?" Harry demanded.

"You're sixteen," Snape retorted. "You should be old enough to have some kind of discernment about your own safety."

Something snapped in Harry, and he jumped to his feet. "You are impossible," he shouted at Snape. "One minute, I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and the next you spank me like a child, and then you tell me I should be responsible for my own decisions. Would you please Make Up Your OWN DAMN MIND?" his voice rose to roar at the end.

He expected Snape to grab and swat him, maybe pull him over to the sofa and drag him over his knee. Harry was not prepared when Snape yelled back,

"Would you please take better care of yourself so I don't have to treat You Like A DAMN SEVEN-YEAR-OLD?"

"I'm trying," Harry protested, in a much lower voice. "Today, I really thought through this. I stood there and thought 'What would Snape want me to do?'"

"And you decided to fake being sick? I would not have told you to do that."

"No, you're perfect, and you always know the right answer. Perfect, wonderful Snape, who always knows what to do, whom everybody looks at and says 'Oh, what a great man because he knows everything and how to do it, and now he's stuck with the stupid Potter boy who makes all the mistakes and worries the perfect Mr. Snape all the time, everyday, for the rest of their lives!'"

Bitter and angry, Harry looked away. His throat hurt, and his eyes hurts, and he hated that Snape was always right.

A short laugh sounded from Snape, and Harry whirled back to stare at the man. Snape gave another short laugh, an ironic laugh.

"Harry," Snape shook his head, "Harry, you must be the most idiotic child I have ever met."

Harry gave a sharp hiss of anger through his teeth, but Snape went on,

"You stand all upset and frustrated because you think people sympathize with me? Have you not seen me at all these last five years? I'm Severus Snape, the disillusioned potions professor, a former Death Eater whom no one trusts, the ugly bat who frightens little children. You, you're the golden boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior whom people talk about and place their trust in. When I decided to keep you for the summer, I received owls from all the teachers here. Professor McGonagall warned me that she would expect weekly reports about your progress, and when I wrote to her about you blowing up my potions storage, the first thing she asked was were you all right? Then she proceeded to lecture me for being so careless as to keep the door unlocked with you in the house."

Harry blinked, not knowing what to say.

"Madame Pomfrey wrote as well, and I told her that I would see that you stayed healthy over the summer. When I told you went into the room with the Dreamless Sleeping Drought plants, she nearly came to collect you until I swore to her that you were on the mend and would be fine. I did not tell her about the bleeding from your mouth, nose, and eyes, or she would have _floo_-ed herself there directly. So forgive me for laughing, but most people would sympathize with you having to live with me rather than the other way around."

"Oh," Harry said simply, not knowing anything else to say. He had forgotten about the Snape who had bullied him for years – in his mind, he had only known Snape, the real Snape, since the beginning of summer.

"Are you through yelling at me?" Snape asked calmly.

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Sorry about that. I don't know why I do it – I don't yell at any one else, or at least I haven't for a long time. Would you have been angry if I went with Moretta this time?"

"I would have been somewhat displeased if you went off with her without thinking, but not as displeased as last night."

"Why not?" Harry demanded, his voice growing louder. "You keep changing – one night you take a hairbrush to me and the next time you said you would be s'omewhat displeased' for the exact same thing."

"I am not being inconsistent," Snape told him. "Meeting a teacher whom you barely know after curfew, alone at night, wandering the castle – that I considered a punishable offence. Taking a stroll with the same teacher in the middle of the day, in broad daylight, with hundreds of students and teachers about – that is much safer. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah," Harry scowled, "once again – you are perfect and I'm the idiot."

"You're still learning," Snape said. "One of my jobs as your father is to teach you to think about things before you react, to learn to evaluate a situation before you run into it and find yourself in the Ministry of Magic without any other help or with Mr. Weasley in forest full of carnivorous spiders."

"They seemed like good ideas at the time," Harry said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"They always do," Snape replied. "But I want you to start thinking. And I never, ever, want to see you lying in hospital bed again. I never want to hear from another student that you are in the hospital and I have to run all the way there to see if you are still breathing. Do we understand each other?"

"Yeah," Harry said, looking away shamefaced.

Snape grabbed his arm, turned him, and landed a hard swat on Harry's rear.

"Ow!" Harry protested.

"I said do we understand each other?" Snape thundered, his eyes glinting.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered.

"Believe me," Snape said in a stern quiet voice, "if I ever, ever, find that you have gotten hurt due to your own thoughtless negligence, I will stand by your bed until you have sufficiently healed, and then you are going over my knee for the worst spanking until you are the sorriest boy in all of Britain. And then I will dole out a spanking every night for a week along with keeping you busy with chores, never letting you out of my sight, and giving you every single disgusting potion I can think of until I am certain that you have never been more miserable, because I never want to see you in the hospital bed. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said rather hoarsely. His stomach churned at the thought of such a long, awful punishment.

"You may go see your friend for the rest of the afternoon," Snape said in a far easier voice. "Study or wander the grounds, staying in safe distance of the castle. But after supper tonight, you're coming back here."

"For some extra chores?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, I'm going to cut your hair as I promised. And then we are going to sit down and have a long discussion about the DA that you plan to form again."

Harry waited, sure Snape would tell him that he was not allowed to form any such thing. However, Snape continued,

"And then we are going to set up a chart for you to resume Occlumency lessons again."

"Oh, no," Harry complained, "I hate those."

"And next we will set up a plan where I will start training you."

"For what?" Harry felt very nervous.

"If you plan to be the hero for the Wizarding world, then it is only fair that you start training as such, both physically and mentally as well as magically. I will set up the Room of Requirement for twice-weekly lessons. Not only will you train your body, I will also give you scenarios and situations for you to figure out. You will have to calculate how to get out of danger along with completing a mission and saving others – you are done rushing into dangerous situations, and these exercises will help train you to think clearly under stress and in the midst of chaos."

"Brilliant," Harry smiled impulsively at the idea.

"You'll think _brilliant_ when I get finished with you," Snape growled. "If nothing else, this training should keep you busy enough to stay out of trouble. Now go stick your nose in the corner for ten minutes and then you can leave."

"Why?" Harry objected.

"One, for worrying me half to death this afternoon, and another, for yelling at me."

"You yelled at me, too," Harry protested, but he was already heading for the corner.

"Yes, I thought that would be easier and quicker than washing your mouth out with soap," Snape retorted. "You may not understand this, but I do have other things to do beside punish you."

Harry did not answer. Already, he stood facing the corner. It was not such a bad punishment, considering he had so much to think about. As he gazed at the dark stone of the dungeons walls, his mind whirled with possibilities of the DA and this new training idea of Snape. Harry felt no end to his anticipation – maybe Snape would finally tell him what really happened at Death Eater meetings or show him other dark curses and how to fight them.

And surely once he started training, Snape would see how capable he was, how fast and smart and accurate Harry had become. And more than anything else, Snape would know that Harry was meant to be the leader, the savior of the Wizarding world, and Harry could prove himself once and for all to his new father.

It would be a fantastic school year.


	10. Guilty

AN: I am trying to write more often, but I'm having trouble finding the time. I felt sorry for all three of the boys in this chapter, but I tried to write their characters as realistically as I could. See what you think.

Disclaimer: Do I own this? I do not.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"What happened to you?" Ron demanded the moment he saw Harry turn around the corner of the hallway. "We left you half-dead in the hospital, and now you're walking around like a normal person."

"Thanks," Harry nodded. "I do my best to look normal."

"Not that," Ron replied. "I meant, you're up and around."

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione cut through Ron's stammering.

"I faked the whole thing," Harry said in a low voice. "Madame Moretta wanted me to go with her, and I knew Snape would go through the roof if I did, so I pretended to be sick. I didn't realize it would freak everyone out like that."

"Well, it's you," Hermione pointed out, relieved. "When other people pretend to be sick and have a headache, it's not the end of the world, whereas with you . . ."

"Yeah, I get it," Harry snapped. "I'm different. I'm always different, I can't be normal about anything."

"Do you talk to Snape like that?" Ron wondered out loud. "Because I'm thinking that wouldn't sit with him very well, you know."

"Please tell me you try to show some respect," Hermione added to Ron's thoughts.

Harry wanted to stomp his foot in frustration. "Why are you two always on me? You've always hated Snape, and now you're on his side."

"Don't be daft," Hermione told him.

"You were ready to give Snape a piece of your mind this morning," Harry pointed out. "Then in the hospital, you just went away, and now you're yelling at me about showing him respect."

"No one's yelling at you," Hermione said calmly. "It's just that I saw the change in Snape in the hospital –"

"What change?" Harry demanded.

"He came in completed panicked," Hermione explained. "I've never seen him that worried, and he wouldn't let us talk about Voldemort because it would upset you. That's not the Snape I knew last spring. That Snape would have rolled his eyes and waited impatient while you explained what happened and then probably sneered at your need for attention."

"Yeah, that's right," Ron sided with Hermione. "I kept waiting for him to make comments about your stupid bravery or Gryffindor theatrics, but he was really worried."

"You need to think about that," Hermione lectured. "It's bad enough that you rush around and get into trouble with just us, but now you have a father who worries about you. You have to start thinking about someone other than yourself."

"Other than myself!" Harry felt outraged. "You're accusing me of being selfish? Me?"

"You've been on your own so long, you've forgotten that other people worry about you, people like Ron and me. So if Snape helps you learn to think before you act, then I applaud him. And if he has to employ drastic methods to keep you in line, I won't stand in his way."

Harry felt his face grow warm, and he managed to say, "Thanks, Hermione, nice to know you've got my back."

She shrugged, but Ron stepped in front of her.

"Don't talk to her like," he told Harry. "Yeah, she's a bossy nuisance, but she's _our_ bossy nuisance."

"Thank you, Ronald," Hermione smiled at him, and Ron actually smiled back at her.

Harry felt like a fifth wheel, on the outside of everything, so he threw himself on a stone seat and stared down at the floor. "Fine, you two gang up on me. Maybe I'll go find Draco and talk to him."

"Malfoy!" Ron whirled to face Harry. "Why would you want to talk to that ferret?"

"Snape had him spy on me," Harry grumbled. "What do you think of that?"

"Because you saw Draco over the summer?" Hermione questioned.

Both boys turned to stare at her.

"How do you do that?" Harry shook his head.

"I watch and I listen," Hermione replied. "I know Draco respects Snape, and now Snape had adopted Harry. Draco has not tried anything horrid so far this semester to Harry so I knew that Draco must know about the adoption on some level. Draco would have thrown a fit if he found out here so he must have discovered their new arrangement in the summer. I'm guessing he came to visit Snape and found you there."

"You figured that all out on your own?" Harry was astonished.

"Yes, but I also saw the two of you playing with that silly Snitch this morning."

"You were playing Quidditch with Malfoy?" Ron looked like he would start spitting up slugs.

"Not like that," Harry hastily assured him. "We were just hanging around, you know."

"Since when are you best friends with Malfoy?" Ron crossed his arms.

"We aren't friends," Harry protested. "He tried to kill me over the summer. We fought over and over again. We're sworn enemies."

"Whatever," Ron turned away. "Go find your new friend – I'm out of here."

"Ron, wait," Harry protested. He glanced at Hermione, hoping she would help. She pressed her lips together and returned Harry's look evenly.

"Ron, don't go," Harry called. "Come on, it was just – I mean, okay, I get that - Snape spanks Draco!"

Ron jerked to a stop. Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide.

"What?" Ron came back.

Harry felt guilty for betraying Draco, but Draco had spied on him, and Harry really wanted to make Ron feel better. "Yeah, Snape spanks him."

"Well, don't just say it like that," Ron sat beside Hermione. "Tell us all the ruddy details, don't leave anything out."

"I find it disturbing that you are so fascinated by this," Hermione commented.

"Come on, it's Malfoy," Ron replied. "I'm always glad to see him suffer, the prat. How does Snape do it? Over a chair, his knee, a table? Tell me Malfoy screams – he does, doesn't he? Screams like bloody hell while Snape thrashes the living daylights out of him. Does he beg? In a really high, little-girl voice? Well, mate, does he?"

Harry had an overwhelming urge to give a short hysterical laugh. He knew that Ron disliked Malfoy, but he did not realize just how much Ron wanted the blond to suffer.

"Ron," Hermione put a hand over his, probably to admonish him for being so bloodthirsty, but Ron shook his head.

"No, this is payback for all those times he's called me names, said things about my family. Well, we may be a poor lot of redheads without two Sickles to rub together, but I'm not the one hollering over Snape's knee."

For a brief moment, Harry saw the flash of pain on Ron's face. He remembered all the times Draco had sneered about Ron's family, the time Lucius had insulted Mr. Weasley, the taunts other Slytherins had given Ron. And Draco had never been nice to Hermione.

"Yeah, he screams," Harry leaned against the opposite wall. "Really high, begging Snape to stop. But – er, Snape doesn't listen. He just keeps thwacking him without a word until Draco starts blubbering all over the place."

Ron grinned like an idiot, and Hermione's lips twitched though she did not break into a smile. Harry kept talking, spinning out details of Draco's horrific punishments that steadily grew more and more appalling and vicious as his audience ate it all up.

------

Harry picked over his supper, not really feeling hungry as the evening approached. He did not mind returning to Snape's quarters to get a haircut, but he was not looking forward to the talk about the DA nor the possibility of having an Occlumency lesson. And who knew what kind of training Snape would start him on.

Ron and Hermione knew he was going back to Snape's. As the afternoon wore on, Hermione had found several chances to comment on the positive aspects of having Snape as a father. She kept stressing how much Harry needed a constant authority figure in his life that would not let him get away with wild shenanigans. Harry did not reply to her observations; it was one thing to laugh over Draco's punishments, but Harry did not want to describe his own.

He usually appreciated Hermione's insights, but sometimes he wished she would not notice everything. The whole afternoon he feared she would ask what Snape had done to him for pretending to be sick and worrying everyone. Harry would not have minded talking about how he yelled at Snape (that kind of had a reckless bravado that would amuse Ron and shock Hermione), but he had no intention of telling them about standing in the corner.

"Ron and I are going to the Commons Room to finish our homework," Hermione announced.

"We are?" Ron asked around a mouthful of beans.

"Are you going to be down there long?" Hermione ignored Ron.

"An hour or two," Harry shrugged.

They got up from the table together and were crossing to the door when Hermione accidentally bumped against the corner of the Slytherin's table.

"Sorry," she apologized, and the students sitting did not seem to mind. But Draco was also getting up from the table, and he glared at her.

"Keep your filthy hands off the Pureblood table," he snapped at her.

Harry reached out to grab Ron, expecting him to attack Draco. However, Ron did not move as he watched Draco with calm, cold eyes.

"Careful," Ron said in a quiet voice only Draco, Hermione, and Harry could hear, "wouldn't want Snape taking you over his knee in the Great Hall."

Draco froze.

"I heard your screams could break the windows," Ron smirked. "Huh? Snape's hand too much for your Pureblood skin?"

Draco looked like he wanted to be sick. Then he looked at Harry. Harry tried his best to appear innocent, but he knew he was no good at faking innocence. His guilt must have shown on his face for Draco shouted,

"You're dead, Potter!"

Harry didn't even try to stay and talk it through. He turned and fled towards the doors. He could hear Hermione call his name, but Draco's footsteps hammered after him, and Harry kept running.

He ran faster than he had run in a long time, his breath ragged in his chest, but Draco caught up to him just as Draco had in the summer. Harry felt a hand on the back of his shirt, and then he was tumbling to the ground.

A moment later, Draco stood over him. "Get up, Potter."

Harry rose slowly, wondering if he should to explain or start ducking.

"You told Weasley?" Draco snarled.

"It just slipped out," Harry fumbled for an excuse. "I didn't mean to, and they know that Snape treats me the same way so, you know, we're even."

"Even!" Draco's face twisted with rage. "I don't tell my friends about you and Snape. I know it has to stay a secret, the adoption, but you seem to like blurting things out about me."

"I can explain," Harry began, but Draco was not listening.

"Really? Then explain this!" Draco snatched off Harry's glasses and punched him.

Draco's fist hit Harry right until his left eyes, striking the cheekbone hard. Harry stumbled back in pain, his eyes watering, but apparently that one punch cooled Draco's wrath. He folded Harry's glasses neatly and held them out. Harry took them with his right hand, his left hand pressed over his throbbing face.

"Now consider us even," Draco snapped. He walked away, his shoes clipping on the stones.

Harry gingerly touched his face again. He supposed he deserved to be punched – he had not right to go around blurting out Draco's secrets. Draco may have been an arrogant prat about a whole mess of things, but Harry knew telling his friends about Draco's punishments was a low blow.

Unfolding his glasses, Harry tried to put them on, but the left side of his face hurt so much he could not stand to have the least bit of pressure on it. He folded the glasses up and held them in front of his face so he could see to walk down to the dungeons. It was slow going, and he knew he looked completely ridiculous, but he stumbled along until he reached Snape's quarters.

Snape was reading a potions textbook, but he looked up when Harry's came in. Harry said down at the table, putting down his glasses, and managed a weak smile. "I made it."

"What happened to your face?" Snape demanded.

"Nothing," Harry brushed it off.

"I said, what happened?" Snape's voice grew sharp.

"You want the truth?" Harry looked in his direction. He couldn't really see Snape, just a dark blur in a chair, and with his left eye starting to swell up, Harry doubted he would be able to see anything by the end of the night.

"Yes," the dark blur snapped.

"I walked into someone's fist," Harry replied.

"Harry," Snape began, but Harry shook his head the least bit.

"No, I'm fine. It was my fault, anyway. I couldn't shut up, and Draco said –"

"Draco did this?" the dark blur stood up.

"Yeah, but I was telling Ron and Hermione stuff I shouldn't have," Harry confessed. "I'd have hit me, too, if I were him."

Snape pressed his lips together, obviously wanting to say, but instead he marched over to the corner cabinet. A moment later, he directed, "Open your mouth."

Harry did so, and he felt a spoonful of something gross shoved in. He made a face at the horrendous taste, but already the pain from the punch began to dissipate. A minute later, the swelling disappeared along with the lasting traces of pain.

"Thanks," Harry touched the skin under his eye, grateful when it did not hurt.

"Put on your glasses, and straighten yourself up before I lose my temper," Snape told him.

Harry put his glasses on, bring the room into sharp clarity. "Why are you upset at me? I'm the one who got punched."

"You don't go around blurting out secrets," Snape told him. "I expect you to have more self-control. And you look sloppy and scruffy."

"It's Sunday," Harry objected. "I don't have to wear robes."

"I refuse to have you traipse about like a penniless bum. At this rate, people will think you're Lupin's son, instead of mine. You're getting a haircut, and then I'm throwing away that ratty shirt of yours."

"I like this shirt," Harry crossed his arms over his chest. Of course, he really didn't care about the shirt, but he liked baiting Snape on, especially when Snape let words slip that showed how he felt about Harry now.

"The shirt is going!" Snape stalked to a nearby table and took out a pair of scissors. With a wave of his wand, a sheet rose up out of a bureau and wrapped itself around Harry, pinning him to the chair within its snug confines. A cup of water floated over Harry's head and began to sprinkle down on his head. It felt cold, and he hunched his shoulders up when several large drops rolled down the back of his neck.

"This hair is completely out of control," Snape said as the cup floated back to the table. "It's being unruly and rebellious on purpose."

"Bad hair," Harry agreed. "Bad, bad hair!"

He kept a straight face when Snape scowled down at him. Snape began trimming with the scissors, and little pieces of dark wet hair fell all over the sheet.

"Let's talk about the D.A. meetings," Snape began, and the tone of his voice told Harry they were in for a long discussion.

"What about them?"

"I think they're entirely unnecessary," Snape said, moving to the side to trim above Harry's ear. He paused and took off Harry's glasses. Harry squinted as the room went dim, but as he was tied tightly to the chair, he knew he had to wait it out.

"I'm your Defense teacher," Snape went on. "I don't see why you would need meetings at all when you have a perfectly capable teacher. However, I know you. I know that if I forbid you to have the meetings, you will sneak around behind my back and have them anyway. Then when I find out, which I promise you I will do, I will have to punish you severely for lying and disobeying, and I become the villain and you the poor suffering child with the cruel father."

Harry said nothing, thinking Snape was not far off.

"With that in mind," Snape continued, "I have decided to let you have your meetings. I want a full, detailed report of every single meeting. In those reports, you will include who attended, what spells were taught and/or used, and general problems or questions that arise. You will present these reports on parchment the day after every meeting. Failure to write or present the reports and omission of any kind will result in an immediate reprimand."

"But –"

"Any arguing will also receive reprimand," Snape warned.

"Yes, sir," Harry would have nodded, but he was scared the scissors might cut him.

"In addition, you will sign up the D.A. as an official club which means anyone who is interested in joining may do so."

"Anyone?" Harry said in dismay.

"Including Slytherins."

"But the D.A. is supposed to fight against evil, not invite it in," Harry complained. He felt Snape pull his ear sharply.

"That's enough backtalk. I don't guess that many Slytherins would want to join the D.A., but you have to keep the club open. You may have as many restrictions to join as you like – 'all new members have to pledge their support to Dumbledore and name every sweet he likes in alphabetical order' or whatever you like – but you cannot exclude students by age, gender, or house."

"I bet if the Slytherins got together and wanted to have club only for Purebloods you wouldn't stop them," Harry grumbled, wishing he could cross his arms under the sheet.

"Yes, I would," Snape replied. "Stop moving your head."

"What if they try to get in just to spy on us?"

"What would it matter? You'll already be reporting to me on everything that happens. You can have rules of conduct for meetings so students cannot come in just to disrupt and cause trouble, but you have to keep the club open."

"We're still meeting in the Room of Requirement," Harry said stubbornly. "That's where it started and I like it in there."

"Fine, but you need to keep the same meeting place to enter the room so everyone can find it. You're not meeting in some hidden corner of Gryffindor Tower where no one can find you."

"How do you think of all this?" Harry asked as Snape began to trim his bangs. "I can't even think of what to teach during our first meeting, and you've already written up all the requirements for a formal club. Should I be charging a due for members?"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt," Snape snipped the unruly dark hair carefully. "If every member paid a small fee every month, you could take planned trips outside the castle or purchase better equipment to train. For some students who can't afford the fee, they could work in other ways such as organizing or cleaning up before and after meetings."

It really was unnerving how Snape knew everything and could think of everything, too. Harry did not see why he needed to write out reports; Snape would probably know every single thing that happened in each meeting, before it even happened.

"There, that will have to do," Snape stepped back to observe his handiwork with a critical eye. Harry wrinkled his nose, blowing up on his face to relieve the itch the falling hair had caused. Snape grabbed what looked like a fine-hair brush that women would use to put on blush or men for soaping before shaving. Snape began dusting off Harry's face and neck with the brush. The tiny, soft hairs of the brush tickled like mad, and Harry jerked his head away from the brush. Snape, being his usual cruel self, smirked and took his time dusting away the loose hair until Harry's face was itching and hypersensitive.

"Get off," Harry insisted. "I'm clean enough."

Snape finally stepped away and the sheet lifted away, freeing Harry at last.

"Now, about your training," Snape said as he put the scissors away.

"What about it – Snape!" Harry caught his reflection in the glass of one cabinet. "You got it too short."

"It will grow out."

"In a month. Come on, I look like a scarecrow. No one wears it this short. It makes me look twelve."

"Does it?" Snape commented, his face blank. "How unfortunate."

"If I find a book in here called _Haircuts for Children_ or something like that, you're going to hear about it," Harry warned.

"And otherwise, you'll stay quiet?" Snape asked. "In that case, don't look on the top bookshelf."

Harry immediately glanced up and saw the title on the red binding of a book – _Non-Magical Approaches for Those Who Prefer the Personal Touch: Knitting, Baking, Haircuts, and More_.

"You got the one on page twenty-eight," Snape remarked as he flicked his wand at the pieces of hair on the floor. The clippings hopped up into the waste basket, leaving the stone floor bare.

Harry had grabbed the book and flipped to page 26. "This is my haircut," he exploded when he saw the drawings on the page, the step by step approach to cutting a–a –

"A five-year-old's haircut!" Harry yelled.

Snape shrugged. "The book suggested that you take older children to a professional for a proper haircut, so what could I do? It was either that or the little girl's cut, and your hair wasn't long enough to put in pigtails."

Harry slammed the book back on the shelf. "Greasy git," he muttered. "Put your own hair in pigtails."

Snape hid his smile as he said, "If you are through yelling, I want to talk about training."

"Fine," Harry nodded, taking one last look in the mirror. His hair didn't look that bad, just short and no-nonsense, like of like the temperament of the man who adopted him.

"I don't know if you know it," Snape said, "but the castle is so big we don't use every room. I get to have a study and a bedroom along with my classroom down in the dungeons. The room next to me has stood empty for years, last used as storage for some old paintings. After asking Dumbledore, I had Filch clean it out last week, and I've made some changes. Shall we?"

Snape walked to the stone wall at the side of his study. He tapped five different stones, and the wall began to pull itself open, the stones turning out until a doorway appear. The room was dark on the other side, but Snape stepped towards it with Harry right behind him. As soon as Snape stepped past the wall, several high torches flared to life, fire bursting up to light the room.

Harry found himself standing in a large domed room, with a floor of probably fifty feet by forty and twenty feet high. One wall held supplies on shelves: more ropes, glass vases, rolled parchment, wooden boxes, metal disks and balls, crates, and slabs of wood. On the far wall, paper targets outlining humans and animals were hanging. Along the other side of the room were pieces of equipment made of metal, iron, leather, pads, chains, and ropes. A few looked like crude machines, and two or three resembled medieval torture racks.

"Welcome to your new training room," Snape said, his voice echoing in the large room.


	11. Sore

AN: Another chapter, but don't expect much until the end of the semester in early May.

Disclaimer: I don't own this.

--

"Ow," Harry protested, "Ow – don't! Come on, that hurts."

"It's supposed to hurt," Snape said grimly. He pulled on the strap, and Harry groaned.

"Ugh! That's enough."

"It most certainly is not," Snape pulled on the strap sharply, and the clasp slid down another inch.

Harry huffed and puffed, but could not do much else from his awkward position. It was Monday evening, their first training night, and Harry had met Snape a little before eight, Harry wearing loose pants, a tee shirt, and sneakers. Snape has instructed him to climb into the first machine, and Harry had to duck under the weights to lie down on the padded long bench, face down. But then Snape had trapped his wrists and ankles to the ends of the bench with leather restraints.

Snape had stepped back and began to turn a hand crank, and Harry found the bench bending into two, forcing his body to fold at the waist. Snape kept cranking until Harry's hands were nearly touching his toes, the bench almost folded in half. Then Snape started tightening other straps around Harry's back and thighs, pulling tighter and tighter until Harry was sure he would never get out.

"And set the weight at a hundred pounds," Snape moved the leveling bar. "That shound do it."

"Do it!" Harry protested, trying to twist his neck enough to see Snape, but Harry could not see any higher than the man's shoes and robe-covered knees. "What am I supposed to flippin' do like this?"

"Now, now," Snape warned. "You're not in a good position to be using any coarse language. This machine will help strengthen your core muscles. You simply have to straighten your body. Pull your arms up and push your feet up. Try it."

Harry had not idea how he would manage that, but he tried. For long moment, he pushed and pulled, but nothing happened.

"Come on, try again," Snape directed. "Take a breath and blow it out as you go flat."

Harry wanted to give Snape a mean look, but instead he concentrated on the exercise. At first, he couldn't budge, but then he felt the bench move with him. Straining and grunting, he finally got his body straight, his arms and legs straining as he held them up.

"Go back, slowly," Snape instructed. "Slowly, slowly – remember to breathe."

Harry returned to the original position, and he let his body go limp, breathing hard with sweat on his forehead.

"There I did it."

"Now do twenty-nine more," Snape told him.

"What?" Harry exploded. "I could barely do one! It's too much weight, and I'm tired. Let me out."

"Is that how you plan to defeat the Dark Lord?" Snape demanded. "Complain until he drops dead from listening to your whining? And I'm telling you right now, Potter, you're going to train, or when the final battle comes, I'll lock you a wardrobe and fight him myself."

Harry bristled, but he snapped, "It's _Harry_ to you," and he straightened his body again, hissing as his muscles protested.

He had suffered under the Cruciatus Curse before, been cut and bled, cracked his kneecaps against the stone floor while struggling against the Imperius Curse, but Harry would have sworn he had never felt such agony before like this. Every muscle in his body burned sharper with each repeat of the exercise, and he wanted to weep when he reached 28 and could not stop shaking.

"Come on," Snape said. "You're almost there. Just two more, and then you'll have done thirty."

Harry wanted to swear, to spit at Snape and call him names. But then he felt a hand on his back, just over his left shoulder blade.

"You can do this," Snape said quietly.

With a loud growl, Harry straightened his body and closed it and then straightened one more time before dropping back down.

"Good boy," Snape remarked, and he stepped over to uncrank the machine.

As the bench straightened, Harry let his whole body go limp. Ah, that felt good. He had survived Snape torture . . . and come out still in one piece. Yay for him.

Once Harry was lying flat, Snape began to loosen the straps until Harry could roll out of the machine. Harry stood bend over, resting his hands on his knees. "That's good," he panted. "Great first practice session."

"Oh, did you think it was over?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "We've barely started."

Harry lifted his head to squint at the man. "Are you mad? I can't move. I'm sore all over."

"I hope so," Snape replied. "Every time we work here, I plan to get your body to the point of exhaustion and then begin to train you. You don't expect to meet the Dark Lord in prim health, hale and well-rested?"

"Sod the Dark Lord," Harry groaned, but he straightened to face Snape. "All right, what next, torturer of mine?"

"Let's see how fast you can run," Snape aimed his wand at the stone floor beneath Harry's feet. "_Caucus Repetus_!"

Suddenly, the stone floor began to slide back. Harry jumped back, startled as he watched a space of about three feet by five move back with new stones popping out of the ground to keep the space moving, the stone slightly back smooth and together.

"What, like a treadmill?" Harry glanced at Snape.

"Exactly," Snape nodded though he frowned slightly at the mention of Muggle equipment. "Get on it and start walking."

Harry did as he ordered, but it was the oddest feeling ever, walking on the flat floor without going anywhere.

"Faster," Snape said and flicked his wand at the moving stones. Harry found himself breaking into a jog to keep up, and as the pace increased, he had to break into a run.

The two hours crawled along in a blur of pain and aching muscles. Harry kept moving, stumbling along as Snape made him jump over beams protruding from the wall, dodge red bolts that shot at him randomly, and perform jumping jacks while Snape shouted out questions about Defense that Harry had to answer as quick as he could. When Harry finally tripped over his own feet while ducking falling bags of sand and lay stunned on the floor, staring up blankly, Snape called it quits.

"That's good for today," Snape reached his hand down, and Harry grabbed it, letting Snape hoist him to his feet. "Go take and shower and then it's off to bed."

The little shower that Snape pointed to was no more than four narrow sides about six feet high and three feet wide, enclosed together with one side open like a door. A shower nozzle hung over the open space inside. Harry stepped into the square space and shut the door. It locked magically and his clothes disappeared. Hot water came pouring out of the nozzle.

Harry braced himself on two opposing walls and leaned his head down, letting the water fall on his sore neck and shoulders, running down to a small drain at his bare feet. He thought he could fall asleep right there as it pounded down, over and over again on his skin.

Then the water turned cold.

Harry gasped, and he pushed against the wall that had swung open like a door. It would not move. As the water turned colder and colder, Harry began to pound against the door, wanting to get out.

"Stay in the cold water," Snape ordered from the middle of the room. "The hot water and the cold will keep you from being too sore."

"I'll take the soreness!" Harry howled as he tried to avoid the icy spray, cramming his body into a corner, but unable to get out of the cold water.

The spray stopped abruptly, the last of it gurgling down the drain. A towel floated from the open top of the shower, and Harry grabbed at it, trying not to let his teeth chatter. He had just wiped his eyes when hot air blew down, warm and dry. A minute later, he barely needed to dry off, and the second he was dry enough, the door to the shower clicked open.

Harry stepped out, and then realized he was wearing red pajamas and slippers.

"It's after ten," Snape told him. "Go on to bed. You can use the floo in my office."

Harry was too tired to argue, and he followed Snape meekly into the next room. Snape held out the box of green powder, and Harry took a handful. He stepped into the fireplace.

"You did well tonight," Snape told him, his voice low and serious.

Harry dropped his handful of powder, barely able to whisper "Gryffindor Commons Room."

A rush and a drop later, and he ducked out into the Gryffindor Commons Room. Students were still milling about and stared at him in surprise, but Harry was too tired to care.

"Blimey, mate," Ron piped up from the table where he was studying with Hermione. "Where'd you come from?"

"Don't ask," Harry groaned as he started for the stairs. It took every bit of strength he had left to climb the stairs, pull back the covers to his bed, and fall onto the soft mattress. He lay face down, insensible and numb to the world, too exhausted to cover himself up.

He heard footsteps behind him, and then Seamus asked Ron, "What's wrong with him?"

"Dunno," Ron replied. "Harry, Harry – you all right?"

Harry groaned into the mattress, unable to form words.

"You want us to get someone?" Seamus asked uncertainly.

Harry groaned again, but this time he tried to make it sound like a "No."

"You want to sleep?" Ron question.

Harry nodded into the mattress. With great effort, he turned on his side, dragged up his covers with one hand, and sank his head into his pillow.

"Should we do something?" Dean asked from the other side of the room.

"Maybe he's sick," Seamus commented. "We could put a bucket by his bed, just in case, you know."

"You don't think he's possessed again?" Dean came to stand by the other two boys.

"He was screaming when that happened," Seamus reminded him. "He's not screaming now."

"He's not possessed," Ron stated firmly. "He's just – look he's already asleep. Let him lie there, and if he doesn't move in the morning, we'll get someone."

--

Snape had lied.

Lied, lied, lied – the man was a nasty, rotten, horrid lair.

The water did not work, and Harry's whole body ached the next morning like he had been tortured on a rack.

"Which might as well have happened," he snarled as he sat slowly up in bed. "Stupid, ugly, bat-like – oh, no, not so fast. Slow down, Harry – small steps."

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the Commons Room when Harry limped down.

"What happened to you?" Hermione demanded. He could tell she wanted to check for fever – her hand kept edging up as if to palm his forehead.

"Snape happened," Harry said in a fierce whisper.

"He spanked you?" Hermione squeaked.

Harry wished he could drop through the floor. No one else was close enough to overhear, but Ron turned red and looked away.

"No," Harry ground out, his own ears turning red. "He started training me, putting me through torture so I'll be ready to – you know."

Hermione paused, stunned. "Snape's training you?" she said, careful to keep her voice low.

"Yeah, 'physically and mentally' as he said," Harry could not help mocking Snape a little, making a face as he repeated the man's words. "Wants me to be ready to act in stressful moments, running and ducking, and it's all physical right now, mostly, except for those stupid questions."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione turned to him with bright, shining eyes. "Oh . . . Harry."

Both boys turned to stare at her as her lips trembled.

"It's not that bad," Harry hastily assured her. "I'm just sore."

"No," she shook her head quickly, "this is truly the best thing that could have happened to you."

"What?" Ron and Harry demanded at the same time.

"Snape's training you. A true Death Eater who knows everything about Voldemort, knows about the dark side, knows the danger he is training you to fight. Why, even Dumbledore couldn't offer you that sort of training. But Snape can help you, prepare you, get you ready. A teacher, an adult, and a real Death Eater on your side. And whatever he teaches you, you can teach the rest of us."

"That's right," Ron grinned suddenly. "We'll get to learn what he shows you. Wicked, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry began to drag his feet towards the stairs. "Wicked."

--

Sitting on the hard benches for class was the last thing Harry wanted to do, and he wished he could just walk around the grounds at a slow pace until his aching muscles eased up a bit. He couldn't concentrate all morning, and by Madame Moretta's Potions class after lunch, Harry laid his head on the desk and closed his eyes. Hermione elbowed him in the side, and Harry gave a soft grunt, but he didn't move.

As he left the class, he saw Moretta frowning at him, but Harry could not bring himself to care. His stomach muscles hurt all the way up his chest, his shoulders ached, and his legs were prickly.

By evening, he dragged his weary body back to Snape's office, ready to call off the whole training thing. Snape stood by the open door to his office, and when Harry walked in, Snape grabbed him by the arm, turned him around, and landed two sharp slaps on Harry's backside.

"Ow," Harry's free hand went back to rub, "what was that for?"

"Madame Moretta informed me you were sleeping in her class," Snape said sternly as he let go of Harry.

"She's always getting me into trouble," Harry scowled.

"Believe me," Snape said ominously, "if you had had my class today and slept, you'd be experiencing a lot more that two wallops. And if you sleep again in her class or any class, I'll be applying a lot more than my hand."

"I was tired," Harry snapped. He raised his arms to cross, but it was too much effort, and he dropped them loosely by his side. "I was sore, too."

"All day long?" Snape questioned.

"Yeah."

"The entire day?"

"Yeah."

"The whole, entire day?"

"Yes!" Harry wanted to shout. "The whole, entire, blasted day, all day long."

"And you didn't come ask me for something to help with the pain?" Snape pointed out.

"You would have sneered and told me that pain was part of it," Harry retorted. "How can I fight the Dark Lord if I can't take a little pain, you would have said."

"I would have said no such thing," Snape told him. "A little pain that you can easily ignore – fine. So sore you cannot focus, then you find something for the pain." When Harry did not look convinced, Snape went on, "If you were cut in the midst of the battle, and you remembered a spell to stop the bleeding, wouldn't you use it?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, trying not to glare at the man.

"This is no different. There is a spell that could ease the soreness, help you focus a little better."

"Then may I have it?" Harry spread his arms, inviting Snape to hit him with the spell.

"Had you come this afternoon, it would have been a spell," Snape informed him as he walked towards the cabinets, "but since you waited so long and wasted your time as well as your teachers, it's –"

"A potion," Harry sighed as Snape took out a bottle and the blasted large spoon.

"What else?" Snape came towards him, uncorking the bottle.

"You know, you're not Potions Master anymore," Harry hedged. "Should you be giving out potions so freely to students?"

"To students, no," Snape began to pour the thick potion out, and Harry wanted to gag at the sight of it. "But to my son, well, that's my discretion as a father. Open."

Harry took the nasty stuff and swallowed hard, shuddering at the awful taste.

"I put in extra black herbs just for you," Snape, the heartless git, smirked as he recorked the bottle. "Made extra thick, just so you can taste it longer. Delightful, is it not?"

"Prat," Harry growled, but already the potion was easing his pain. His body felt less tight, easier to move and swing his arms and walk around.

"Better?" Snape lifted an eyebrow, wearing his knowing expression that made Harry feel childish and naughty.

"Yeah, it is."

"Then on with the training," Snape walked towards the wall, and Harry trudged along glumly.

In spite of the potion, the second day of training was worse than the first. Snape changed up the order of the exercises and used a new machine (one that had Harry strapped down on his back, lifting weights into the air with his arms and feet), and Harry couldn't wait for it to be over. His one coherent thought as he hobbled to the shower was that he got a night off from training tomorrow because Wednesday evening was the first DA meeting.

--

"I can't believe we're starting again," Hermione hugged her clipboard tight to her chest. "Everyone signed up from last year, and we even have two dozen new people who want to join.

"Mostly first and second years," Ron put in. "They want to do something with the older kids, I guess."

"Yes, Ronald," Hermione snapped at him, "but this is huge. We're really doing something this time. I thought we should all have badges and fees and – Harry? Harry, what are you reading?"

"Something Snape gave me," Harry held up a stack of parchment that he was reading at the table. "We're an official club now so we have to have guidelines about what we can teach."

"We have to follow that?" Ron frowned.

"It's the rules now," Hermione began, but Harry tossed the parchment on the table and stood up.

"Forget the rules, we're having a real DA meeting," Harry announced. "We wait until eight, and then get started. I think we should practice the spells from last year and then move on to more complex stuff, dividing everybody up by ages."

"Sure thing," Ron nodded. "Should we go around and get everyone's ages and write them down?"

"Good idea," Harry nodded, and Hermione went with Ron to start talking with people.

Harry leaned over the table, bracing himself on the edge for a second. He felt very nervous, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He had led the DA last year, but then they had been bound by hatred for Umbridge. Now, they were getting ready to fight Voldemort, but would it be the same when their enemy was far away? When all was said and done, Harry wondered if he could lead the group.

What would Snape say if he were here? Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine that Snape was in the room. What would he tell him?

_Potter, you imbecile, your brainless rushing around like an idiotic –_

Harry opened his eyes, frustrated. No, not that Snape. The other Snape, his Snape, the one who had worked him brutally last night and said at the end, "There, that's my boy, ready for anything," and patted him on the shoulder before sending him off to bed.

Harry shut his eyes again, willing himself to hear Snape's voice.

_You know, Harry, what you're capable of, what you can do. I have faith in you, and I know you're able to anything you put your mind to, provided you act with integrity and not go about rushing around blindly. You can do this._

Opening his eyes, Harry straightened and turned to face the door.

The students were coming, chatting among themselves. Harry waited until they were all in, and they began to quiet, watching him.

"Go on," Hermione nodded to him, motioning to the clock that read two minutes past eight.

Clearing his throat, Harry approached the students. There were more than last year, but he was ready to teach them, to help them.

"Good evening," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the silent room, "I'm glad you decided to come, I thought I would start by saying –"

Suddenly, the door opened. Harry fell quiet, and all the students turned to see who had come later.

In the open doorway, Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly, shifting slightly, but staring back with defiant eyes.


	12. The DA Meeting

AN: Thanks for the awesome reviews. Many of you said you enjoyed my humor, so I threw in a bit of my best for this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

--

Harry wasn't sure what he should say or do or even think as he looked at Draco. Last time he had seen Draco the blond had been punching him, but Harry thought he had deserved that punch, and he did not feel especially angry towards Draco as he stood in the doorway.

"What's he doing here?" Ron sneered at Draco and took a half-threatening step towards him.

"He can be here," Harry said quickly. "The rules say anyone interested can join."

"You just said you don't care about the rules," Ron pointed out.

"I don't," Harry said brashly, "but you know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Dra – Malfoy, are you coming in or not?"

"I'm already in," Draco shot back.

All the Gryffindors (which were most of the people there) turned ominously towards Draco, but Harry grabbed the parchment back off the table and pretended to read it.

"All right, now that we're an official group," he said loudly, "we'll need to have another sign up sheet for this year. But this first meeting is open to anyone, whether you decide to join or not. We're going to have a small membership fee due every month –"

"We have to pay now?" someone hollered from the crowd.

Harry froze. "Uh, yeah, because you have – have to pay."

A murmur rose from the students, disagreeing looks and heads shaking all around. Ron gave Harry an uneasy look, and Harry shifted awkwardly. When he had talked to Snape earlier, Snape had explained it all so clearly and Harry had agreed with him, but now it sounded like he was scamming the students out of their money. He could see the headlines now – _Boy-Who-Lived Now Boy-Who-Steals, Adopted Father Questioned and Furious at Son's Greediness_.

"No," Harry protested, trying to put the thought of such a headline out of his mind, "not like that. We're a real club now and if we have dues we can have official pins and maybe badges and if we save up, we can go on an outing or somewhere special."

The whispering died down, and most students seemed to agree with the idea.

"It won't be that much," Harry assured them. "And – and members who can't, we'll find something for them to do. Because if – if you contribute to the club, you'll want to invest in it more and come to all the meetings and really be a part of it."

Harry wasn't sure where that last bit came from; it sounded clever, like something Snape would say to make everything turn out right. Harry felt a surge of accomplishment when everyone nodded along with him.

"But that's why this first meeting is a free-for-all," Harry went on. "Some of you new lot can decide if you want to stay or not. But the meetings will be the same – we'll discuss and practice Defense spells and counter-attacks. Ron, Hermione, we can start sorting people out."

The three of them began pairing students up, mostly by age, making sure none of the little kids were with students too old or experienced. At the end of the double line, Ron grabbed Hermione as his partner, and Harry found, not surprisingly, that Draco was all alone, no one wanting to pair with him.

"You can be with me," Harry told him as he watched the students try to straighten into two lines.

"Sod that," Draco scoffed, lifting his hands in frustration. "I'm out of here."

Draco took one step towards the door, and Harry reached out to grab his arm, jerking Draco into the end of line.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry ordered. "You came, and you're going to stay. All right, everyone, let's warm up with simple disarming spells."

Draco stood facing him, a scowl on the blond's face. Harry ignored him, still explaining the different disarming spells to the rest of the group, but he watched Draco out of the corner of his eye. If Draco took so much as one step backwards, Harry planned to use him as a test subject for all the rest of the spells. He was so sick of Draco's grumbling and sulking and mean looks. No wonder Snape hated pouting so much – it ruined the atmosphere for everyone else.

"Everyone try the _Accio_ spell," Harry directed. "Just take their wand, and then give it back and the other side try. Ready, begin."

Cries of _accio_ flew throughout the room, but Harry turned his attention to Draco, nodding for the blond to take the first try.

Draco gave him a cold look and then said, "_Accio_ Potter's glasses."

Harry felt his glasses slip off his face, and the room went blurry.

"Hey!" Harry protested, but something jumped in front of him.

"Give it back, Malfoy," Ron bellowed.

The room fell quiet and even without being able to see, Harry knew all the students were staring at Draco.

"I didn't mean –" Draco started, but dropped off.

Harry felt his glasses pressed into his hand, and he hastily put them on. Once he could see again, his fears were confirmed; everyone had turned on Draco like a pack of snakes.

"No, Dra – Malfoy brought up an interesting point," Harry stepped forward, making himself the focus of attention. "In disarming an opponent, sometimes you don't go for the most obvious weapon, their wand. They may be clutching the wand so tightly that nothing can get it out of their hands. So the best disarming may start with a distraction. If Malfoy thought he wasn't strong enough to take my wand –"

"I could have," Draco tried to protest, but Harry shot him a stern look, and the blond stepped back.

"If he thought he couldn't," Harry went on as if he had not been interrupted, "he should go for another weakness. In my case, I'm near-sighted. I may have the strongest wand in the world, but take away my glasses, and I'm helpless as a flobberworm."

That got a few laughs, and Harry continued, feeling more confident as he explained. "So Malfoy went for my glasses. This did two things – I wasn't expecting it so it surprised me. When you have the element of surprise over an opponent, you have the upper hand, even if just for a few minutes. But it may be long enough for you to gain more ground. And along with surprise, he weakened me as well. I'm surprised, I can't see. What do I do next? Do I start shooting curses, hoping one hits him? Do I hold my ground and wait? Do I retreat? But the time I figure out what to do, he's probably won."

"What if you don't know your enemy's weakness, but they know yours?" a student, Harry thought it was Dean Thomas, called out.

"Then you train yourself to look for a weakness. Like this," Harry stepped in front of Hermione. She raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry could almost hear Ron huffing his breath out. Ron might call Hermione a girl and emotional and all that, but Harry knew he had to watch himself and not infuriate Ron by pointing out all Hermione's weaknesses.

"Suppose I don't know her," Harry motioned to Hermione. "Suppose suddenly she comes up on a battlefield to face, and I know I have to fight her to do whatever it is I need to do. So I look her up and down, and I might think, 'Oh, just a girl.' But we're not fist-fighting – we're battling with magic." Harry held his wand up.

"But at the same time, I'm an inch or two taller," he went on, noticing that every eye was on him, no one whispering. "Can I use that height or will she use it against me? I'm wearing trousers, she's wearing a skirt."

Hermione suddenly looked self-conscious in her knee-length plaid skirt, and Harry knew Ron was glaring at him, but Harry kept going.

"Does that mean I can run faster? But she's wearing thin shoes, and mine are heavier. If we have to run, will I trip because of my heavier shoes, or if we're running on rocks, will she slow down? These are all things I need to think about before we even face off. Can she shout spells faster than me? Maybe – I need to listen if we exchange words before we get into the actual fight. Is she only going to use her wand or does she have anything in her pockets that she could throw at me? As for her weakness, her hair is down, and it's long. There's a good chance if I throw out a fiery spell, her hair may catch fire."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped and immediately pulled her hair back behind her shoulders.

"You see," Harry turned towards the students, "anything can be used. I don't want you to start picking apart your opponent, but keep that in mind as we disarm. Magic is not your strongest weapon – your ability to think, act, and react is your greatest power. That's why you can go up against the tallest, biggest, scariest wizard you've ever seen and win – because you outsmarted him."

"Or her," Hermione added. She conjured up a length of string to tie back her hair, frowning slightly at Harry. Harry knew he deserved it; Hermione's bushy hair was a sensitive subject with her, and Ron was probably livid.

But they all started practicing again, the cries of _accio_ ringing through the room.

When the meeting finally ended, everyone seemed hyped up and eager to join the club, but Harry told them they could sign up at the next meeting. Students begin drifting out, and somewhere in the shuffle, Draco slipped out unnoticed. Harry just noticed he was gone when Ron and Hermione stepped up to him.

"Make fun of her hair, will you?" Ron challenged.

"Oh, knock it off," Hermione told him. "I should keep it back for practicing anyway. That was smart what you did, Harry, shifting the attention. Even I wasn't sure how you were going to get out of that one."

"Why does Malfoy have to be here?" Ron asked bluntly. "He's just causing trouble."

"It's in the rules," Hermione replied. "And it's the first meeting – everyone was on edge. It'll get sorted, sooner or later. And maybe Malfoy won't come back. What do you think, Harry? If Malfoy disrupts, should we ask him to leave?"

"He won't," Harry assured them. "Look I know Draco isn't your favorite person right now –"

"Oh, so now it's _Draco_?" Ron interrupted.

"We already did this," Harry turned to Ron. "You made me feel bad, I told you one of Draco's secret, you told him, and I got punched. No, Hermione, it's all right. Snape healed me. But I am through proving my loyalties to you, Ron. You're my best friend whether you ignore me because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament or because I play Quidditch with Draco. So I don't want to hear any of it."

Hermione blinked at Harry's words, but fortunately they were the last three people left in the room.

"He's a Slytherin," Ron pointed out.

"And you're an idiot, but you're still my friend," Harry retorted. "I'm on your side, and believe me, if Draco had said anything against you, he would be holding his own teeth right now, no magic needed."

"Why are you boys so violent?" Hermione shook her head. "Punching each other, holding teeth – you're all animals, really."

"Yeah, well, this animal still has to go report to Snape about tonight's meeting," Harry sighed. "So you two figure it out without me."

--

"So you averted a fight?" Snape questioned when Harry paused.

Harry hesitated, then answered, "Yes, sir."

It was rather unnerving, the way Snape made him report. Snape sat at his desk while Harry had to stand in front of it, answering all the queries honest and straight-forward as he could.

"Did you think people would respect you more for stopping a fight or for challenging the instigator?" Snape asked.

"Huh?" Harry gave his usual eloquent reply.

"You distracted everyone from an impending fight. Would you have looked stronger if you had confronted the troublemaker?"

"But it was Draco," Harry objected.

"Doesn't matter," Snape told him. "You gave the order to only take the wands – Draco chose to ignore your order and took your glasses instead. Was it wise to let him blatantly defy you in front of everyone?"

"So I'm in trouble for _not_ fighting with Draco?" Harry's eyes opened up a little wider in despair. There was just no pleasing Snape no matter what he did.

"You're not in trouble, Harry," Snape assured him. "You can stop looking so worried. But I want you to think about what happened. If you planned to divert attention away from Draco so as not to interrupt the meeting and then later confront him about it, then I agree completely. You could certainly give him a warning – the rules clearly state that anyone disrupting the meetings must leave, and you could have reminded him of that at the end."

"But in the summer –"

"This isn't the summer," Snape's face remained calm but firm. "Had your roles been reversed and you went to his meeting, I would expect him to stand you down if you stepped out of place."

"Come on," Harry threw himself back in a chair, letting his arms flop loosely to the side. "I'm never going to think of everything. I thought you would proud that I turned a would-be fight into a lesson about awareness. I got everyone on my side, Draco wasn't beaten to death, and they'll be thinking about weaknesses on the battlefield. How can I get blamed for that?"

A small smile twitched the corners of Snape's mouth, but he kept his face straight. "I'm not here to praise you for each little success. I'm here to train you, keep you focused on your responsibilities, and guide you towards the ultimate goal."

"Oh, fine," Harry grumbled. "When I do something wrong, you take it out on my rear, but when I do something right, it's no big deal."

Snape stood up, but Harry stared at the wall, trying not to sulk. Snape came to stand beside the chair and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You've done well," he said quietly.

Harry felt his throat tighten, and he cursed himself for making Snape praise him because every time Snape did, Harry felt like bursting into tears. At least with the criticism, he was only frustrated and not all sensitive.

"Much better than I expected," Snape went on. "But from now on, I am going to be harder and tougher on you because I want you to grow. You've made tremendous progress. The boy I knew at the beginning of the summer could not have showed such integrity in the meeting like you just did. You kept your temper, you thought, and you reacted wisely. But I can't let you stay there – I have to keep pushing you forward because I'm not only your mentor and your teacher. I'm your father now, and I won't take anything less than your best."

Harry nodded solemnly, not trusting himself to speak.

Snape squeezed his shoulder and then returned to his own seat behind the desk. "So," he said in a casual voice, "you threatened to set Miss Granger's hair on fire. How did Mr. Weasley take that?"

--

After a long week of lessons and training, Harry was thrilled at the idea of a Saturday with nothing to do. Snape expected him to come for training that night, but as Harry left the Great Hall after breakfast, he knew the evening was hours away, and he had his freedom until then. He had missed Ron and Hermione at the table, but he found them in one of the halls, talking in low voices. Ron seemed upset about something, but Hermione was insistent, gesturing a lot with her hands while Ron had his arms crossed stubbornly.

"What is it?" Harry joined them.

"Hermione's gone mad," Ron informed him. "She has just hit upon the most mental plan ever."

"It is not," Hermione argued. "You're just obstinate, Ronald Weasley."

"Well, let me be the judge," Harry opted. "What's your plan?"

"I think it's time we end the whole fighting thing with Malfoy," Hermione announced. "We're not eleven anymore, we're not caught up in silly fights over mean names or spitting slugs, and he's not even threatening without Crabbe and Goyle by his side. It's time to end the feud."

"Okay," Harry nodded, "that sounds good."

"Tell him how you want to end it," Ron told Hermione.

"I think we four should all go on a picnic," Hermione said.

Harry froze, not sure he had heard her right. "What?"

"You know, a picnic. You pack a basket of food, go on a long walk, find a nice place to sit –"

"I know what a picnic is," Harry interrupted. "Why should we go on one?"

"Yeah," Ron piped up, "it's not like picnics are cool at our age. We're sixteen, Hermione – we don't go on picnics."

"And even if we did," Harry added, "Draco doesn't want to go with us."

"Well, you'll know when you ask him," Hermione decided. She tilted her head to the side slightly, the pose she took when she would not back down.

The next ten minutes were wasted arguing, but Harry didn't put that much effort into it as he knew Hermione would win. Sure enough, he found himself searching for Draco while Hermione went to pack a picnic basket with a surly Ron following her, declaring he would not be carrying the basket.

Draco was sitting in a stone window ledge on the second floor, staring out at the lake, but he turned when Harry approached.

"Er, I was just wondered if you were – er, doing anything today," Harry asked.

"Go find someone else to play with," Draco sneered. "I'm not desperate enough to talk to you, Potter."

"Uh-huh," Harry nodded tersely, "well, you're coming on a picnic right now."

"What?" Draco demanded.

"Yeah, you and me and Hermione and Ron are all going on a picnic," Harry told him. "And before you say 'Over my dead body,' I am fine with levitating your dead body along with us, just so you know."

"I'm not going on a picnic with you!" Draco roared.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione and Ron emerged from the kitchen with a packed basket and found Harry and Draco waiting for them. Draco's shirt was slightly torn, and Harry's hair was a bit more ruffled than normal, but other than that, they both looked unharmed.

"Hello, Malfoy," Ron snarled, his hands gripping the picnic basket so tight the wicker handle squeaked.

"Hello, Weasley. Hello, Grang-"

"Yes," Harry said loudly, "we all know each other's last names. So for today, let's use each other's first names. Ron, I'll take the basket for the first part. Draco, you be nice to Hermione, or I'll bash you over the head with this basket. Now, move."

They had started towards the outside door, when Snape suddenly came around the corner. He stopped, surprised at the sight of them.

"What's all this?" Snape demanded.

"We're going on a picnic, all of us," Harry announced recklessly.

It was best sight ever, the look on Snape's face – that mix of shock and surprise and disbelief and everything else the stern man tried to keep under control, all there on his face.

"Have a nice day," Harry smiled at Snape.

They all started for the door, Hermione leading the way, Ron and Draco both disgruntled, and Harry carrying the basket, leaving a speechless Snape alone in the hallway.


	13. Picnic

The day was still warm but the air had a feel of coolness in it, typical of the weather in September

AN: I have nothing to say about this chapter, but it was fun to write. It's a bit slow, but hey, picnics are supposed to be good for relaxing and taking it easy.

Warning: This chapter earns it's PG-13 rating

Disclaimer: I do not own.

--

The weather was still warm, but the air had a feel of coolness, typical of the weather in September so far north. Ron and Hermione kept leading the way, talking about the troubles of being Prefects in a school with so many unruly children. Harry wanted to listen, but he had to concentrate all his attention on carrying the picnic basket.

The longer he carried it, the heavier it got until his arms were hurting (probably more a result from a week of training than a basket full of food). Finally, when no one was looking, he whipped his wand out and spelled the basket to become lighter, taking half the weight off. However, he must have done the spell wrong because the weight of the basket kept fluctuating. It would be half its weight one second and the next it would be lighter and keep growing lighter until it started to rise up in the air and Harry had to hold the handle tight to keep the basket from floating away.

Draco trudged along, obviously not liking the idea of going along which a bunch of Gryffindors, but not wandering too far off either. Harry thought as he shoved the light basket down a few inches that Draco was really putting it on that day. Even after Draco had declared to Harry that he was not going and they had tussled, the blond had stopped fighting rather quickly. Draco had sneered that if nothing else would make Harry happy then he would go along, but Harry felt that his reluctance was more show than anything else.

"How much farther?" Ron asked as they walked up another round hill, go higher and higher.

"Just a bit more," Hermione replied.

"We've been going on forever," Draco muttered.

Ron turned around to say something mean, but Harry quickly said,

"I suppose we'll have a ruddy good view of things from up here. I've always wanted to go up here, but I never – oh, just wait."

The other three watched as he fought to keep the basket down. But it was growing lighter and lighter, rising six feet over the ground and starting to put Harry up as well.

"What have you done?" Hermione demanded, whipping out her wand. She canceled the spell, and the basket fell down, pulling Harry's arm with it.

"Ugh," Harry grunted as he went down, but he heaved the basket back up. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just carried the basket packed with rocks."

"Too much for your weak arms?" Draco asked smugly.

"Watch it, Malfoy," Ron growled.

"We are not going to fight the whole picnic," Hermione declared. "I didn't go to all this trouble just to hear you bicker. Come on, Harry, it's not that heavy!"

He scowled at her, but lugged the basket with both hands. Fortunately, they were only fifty feet or so from the spot Hermione had picked for them to eat.

And it was a beautiful spot – a grassy flat space that dropped off to overlook the castle and the lake below it. The trees were shorter here because they were so high, and several large birds flew beneath the edge of the cliff, giving the four teenagers the feeling that they were on top of the world.

However, they were all a bit sweaty and winded from the hike up, and they spend several minutes just looking out and breathing hard.

"I'm hungry," Ron finally said.

"I told you," Hermione tried not to look too satisfied with herself. "I knew we'd be hungry after a long trip. But let's play a game first."

The three boys all looked skeptical, and Draco nearly snorted, but Harry decided to play along. After all, there was no point in climbing so high just to eat and turn right back around and go back.

"What kind of game?" Harry asked.

"It's a Muggle game," Hermione admitted.

Draco scoffed again, but Ron looked interested.

"Like those bideo games Harry told me about?"

"_Video_," Hermione corrected, "and no, I don't have a television up here."

"Harry said they make bideo games small enough that you can carry around and put in your pocket," Ron objected.

"No, Ron, there are no video games," Hermione protested.

"What about board games?" Ron went on. "Harry says they have games like chess but you go round and round past something called Go! and you can be thimble or even a tiny hat."

"I have no board games," Hermione raised her voice a notch, her frustration showing.

"Too bad," Ron sighed. "Those would have been fun."

"This game is fun, too," she persisted. "It's called I Never."

"You never?" Draco asked, confused.

"She never," Harry grinned. "Have you never, Ron?"

"I've never I Never," Ron joked.

"No, that's not how you play the game!" Hermione cried. "Stop fooling around and sit down on the grass."

Once they all sat, she went on to explain how the game would be played. They would take twenty large leaves from a nearby bush. Then they would go around in a circle and say things they had never done.

"Like I would say 'I've never played Quidditch'," Hermione went on. "Now, the three of you would put a leaf in the middle pile because you've all played Quidditch. Then it would be Ron's turn, and he would say something he had never done. We go around five times, and whoever has the most leaves left would be the winner. Got it?"

"Isn't this a drinking game?" Harry queried as he began pulling off his leaves from the bush.

"Yes," Hermione frowned, "but we aren't drinking alcohol and we don't have enough pumpkin juice. Okay, Harry, you start, and then I'll go and then Ron and finally Draco. Ready?"

"Sure," Harry tried to think of something that he had never done. "Uh, er, I've never . . . traveled outside Great Britain."

Hermione put a leaf in the pile and so did Ron and Draco. Harry was winning, but he tried not to look too pleased with himself.

"My turn," Hermione said. "I've never seen a gigantic spider."

Harry put a leaf and Ron did as well with a shudder. Draco hesitated and then put a leaf in the center pile.

"When did you see a gigantic spider?" Harry asked.

"My father once showed me one, but it wasn't alive," Draco replied. "Did it have to be alive?"

"No," Hermione replied with a small smile, "and thank you for being honest. Ron?"

Irritated to have Hermione smiling at Draco, Ron bristled and said, "I've never been spanked by Snape."

"Ron," Hermione hissed, but Draco was already putting a leaf in the pile. Harry did the same, giving Ron a look that told him to watch it. Ron had forgotten about Harry's secret, and he shrugged apologetically.

It was Draco's turn, and Harry cringed inwardly, expecting the question to be really hurtful. But Draco only said,

"I've never completely read any school textbook."

Hermione gasped, shocked at such information as she put her leaf in the pile. Ron grinned because he didn't have to put a leaf in, but Harry slowly put his leaf.

"When did you read a whole textbook?" Draco demanded.

"Over the summer," Harry admitted. "Two in fact – Transfiguration and Potions."

"I knew you were showing off in class," Hermione protested. "'I studied a bit over the summer' – likely story."

"Who cares? Harry, your turn," Ron said.

They went around, their statements growing more outrageous as they kept going. Ron admitted that he never learned to tie his shoes – he just spelled them together once he got his wand. Hermione confessed she had never tasted ice cream – her dentist parents had scared her with horror stories about what it could do to people's teeth, and even now she wouldn't touch the stuff. Draco had never been in Muggle car, and Harry had never tasted alcohol, Muggle or Wizard brand.

Ron won the first game with four leaves though Harry was close behind with three leaves to Draco's two and Hermione's one. They played another game, and Draco won though Hermione was close behind.

Then Hermione announced they could eat, and they tore into plates of sandwiches, cold chicken legs, slices of apple, and glasses of pumpkin juice still chilled. Hermione had even gotten them all cups of chocolate pudding, two apiece, and Harry really thought it was the best meal he had ever eaten.

With the taste of chocolate lingering in his mouth, Harry stretched out on the ground and closed his eyes, letting the sun soak into him.

Hermione began packing up the basket, saying, "Ron, why don't you come help me wash the plates off?"

"I'll do it," Harry said, but he didn't move or open his eyes.

"No," Hermione announced, "I want Ron. We'll be back."

Harry grunted in reply and then went back to enjoying the sun. He was feeling wonderfully full and tired and warm, moments from drifting off.

"You know what they're doing, don't you?" Draco suddenly said.

Harry turned his head towards the direction of the voice and opened one eye. "Huh?"

"Those two," Draco nodded in the direction where Hermione and Ron had gone. "They're together."

"Yeah, they went to wash the dishes," Harry nodded.

"No, _together_," Draco stressed the word as if that explained everything. "Like snogging together."

Harry sat up at that. "Ron? And Hermione? No, they like each other, but they aren't interested in each other that way. He thinks of her as a sister, like I do."

Draco looked straight at him. "This time I think I have every right to call you a stupid Gryffindor. You honestly don't see it? Fine then, I dare you to go find them and see what they're doing. I guarantee they aren't just being friends, washing dishes. Why even wash dishes? – let the house elves do them later."

"You're out of your mind," Harry pulled himself reluctantly to his feet. "I'll go find them and they won't be doing anything odd."

It took a few minutes to track them down – once he heard the sound of the mountain spring, Harry headed towards it and he saw Hermione's blue shirt before he could hear anything. He wondered why they weren't talking, but as he drew near, he could see them talking in quiet tones, Ron facing Hermione and saying something very different than his usual complaints and grumbles because his face was all strange. The dishes were stacked at their feet, completely ignored.

Hermione seemed to be nodding along with whatever Ron was saying, and then she lifted her hand to touch his freckled cheek, the tips of her fingers reaching the edge of his red hair. Ron leaned towards her and kissed her once, very quickly, but on the lips.

Harry froze, sure he was hallucinating. Draco was playing a trick on him, blinding him with some ridiculous vision. But then Hermione leaned forward to kiss Ron, and then they started snogging. They had their hands all over each other – Hermione grabbing Ron's short hair and (to Harry's horror) Ron had one hand in Hermione's hair while the other reached down to grab her waist before reaching up to cup the underside of her breasts.

Harry found himself backing up quickly, not making a sound as he crept away. In a daze, he made his way up the cliff where Draco was still sitting on the grass.

"Well?" Draco asked.

"I hate you," Harry slowly sat down.

"Told you," Draco smirked, but Harry kept staring down at the blades of grass.

After a few minutes of silence, Draco said, "Go on, tell me what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" Harry repeated. "I – I don't know. What can I think? They were kissing – he was touching her, too."

"So Weasel's not a complete prat around girls," Draco smirked again, almost lecherously.

"Stop it," Harry protested. "They're my best friends – but you know, I can't figure it out."

"What's to figure? He's a bloke, she's pretty in a Mugglish bookworm way, end of story."

"It's just – Ron, you know," Harry shook his head. "I always thought I was the more – you know, older of us. I mean, he's smart and a Prefect and capable of handling stuff, but I've done more what with Voldemort and people dying and –"

"You thought you would get a girlfriend before he did?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Think much of yourself, Potter?"

"Says the most arrogant student in the whole school," Harry retorted. "No, I just thought we both would wait – oh, forget it. You're arrogant, and I'm an idiot. Happy?"

"So they're together – no reason for you to go mad."

"But it changes everything," Harry insisted. "They're together, and I'm the odd man out. As least you're not dating."

"Who says I'm not?" Draco challenged.

"You're not dating," Harry declared. "You're all alone and pathetic so I don't feel so bad."

Draco opened his mouth to say something, maybe declare he was in love with someone who loved him back and they were planning to elope, but Hermione and Ron were coming up the path, Ron carrying the clean dishes. Hermione's hair looked a little more messed up than usual, and Harry would have sworn Ron's collar was buttoned before he left, but it was open now.

"Took you long enough," Draco commented. Harry wanted to kick him – Harry's cheeks were turning red and burning as he tried to concentrate on the grass and not think about what he saw.

"How would you know how long it takes to wash dishes?" Ron retorted as he set the dishes in the basket.

"No fighting," Hermione sat down on the grass. "Let's just enjoy the nice weather. Ron, tell them about the thing you told me earlier, the things about the tongues."

Harry thought his face would burst into flames, but Ron said easily,

"Oh, yeah, Hermione and I were reading in the library about the uses of bird tongues in potions. We couldn't figure which bird tongues could be used. Think you could ask Snape about it, Harry?"

"Yeah, Harry," Draco turned towards him, "don't you want to ask Snape about tongues?"

Harry thought he would give anything to throttle Draco right then and there, but he couldn't without arousing suspicion so he settled for glaring at him.

"Uh-oh," Hermione said in a whisper. "I think we have a visitor."

She glanced quickly towards the trees and back at Ron. Harry looked in the same direction, and he saw a little boy ducking behind the trees.

"It's Worty," he whispered to the other three.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"A first-year Slytherin."

"Ugh," Ron made a face at Draco, "you're everywhere these days."

"Should we call to him?" Harry asked Hermione, but Draco had a different idea.

"Worty, get up here, or I'm pushing Harry off this cliff."

Immediately, the little boy dashed up the path, protesting, "No, don't."

"What are you doing up here?" Ron demanded. "First-years aren't supposed to wander so far from the castle."

"I wanted to see where you had gone," Worty drew near Harry, his eyes worried. "But I got lost in the woods and couldn't find you until just now. I wanted to talk to Harry."

"Well, he's busy," Ron told him. "We're having a picnic and you weren't invited."

"Ron, that's not nice," Hermione chided. "Come, Worty, sit down. You can talk to Harry in a minute. We have some food – are you hungry?"

Worty nodded, and Hermione began pulling out the leftover food. For the next while, Worty ate the food, sitting happily between Harry and Hermione, and Ron and Draco looked disgruntled, but said nothing.

Once Worty was finished, he looked up at Harry. Harry smiled, tried to be kind and encouraging to the little boy, but suddenly Worty's face twisted and he fought against tears.

"Oh, what is it?' Hermione asked softly, reaching out to touch the boy's hand. "Don't be sad. We aren't upset with you."

"I'm in trouble," Worty confessed. "Well, not yet, but I'm going to be."

"What do you mean?" Ron squinted in confusion.

"I did something really bad," Worty admitted, twisting his fingers together.

"Like what?" Draco asked.

"I wanted to see Harry and I couldn't find him," Worty said in a tiny voice. "I knew sometimes he goes to the dungeons to see Snape, and I knocked on the door and it was opened. So I went in."

Harry caught his breath, already worried. "You didn't touch anything, did you?"

"I didn't mean to," Worty objected. "I just saw one jar of stuff on his desk and I picked it up, only it was slippery and I dropped it."

Worty saw their horrified expressions, and he stammered on, "I tried to clean it up, but it got all over the floor and then I bumped into the desk and a stack of papers fell into the mess."

"What kind of papers?" Hermione asked slowly.

"I think they were student papers," Worty confessed. "ButI thought I could find something to replace the jar so I went to the door on the right –"

"Oh, no," Harry groaned. "Not the potions store. Please not the potions store."

"I tried to find the right bottle in there, but I knocked two others over," Worty said unhappily. "Then I got scared and ran, but I think Snape heard me."

"You're dead," Draco decided.

"Draco," Hermione scolded, but the blond shook his head.

"No, Worty, Snape is going to use you to chop up and put in his next potion jar. You can't start breaking things in his office."

Worty looked miserable, and Harry spoke up,

"It was his first mistake – he won't ever do it again."

"Like Snape will care," Ron scoffed.

"When did you do it?" Harry asked.

"Early this morning," Worty said. "I ran upstairs and Snape followed me. I hid, but he saw the four of you, only you were going on a picnic. He walked away, and I followed you because I was afraid he would catch me if I stayed inside."

"So you did it before we left," Harry realized. "Okay, fine, it'll work then."

"What will work?" Ron asked.

"I'm taking the fall for this," Harry explained. "I'll tell Snape I did it."

"Are you mental?" Ron exploded.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, "Snape will tear you to pieces."

"Probably," Harry nodded, "but I'll confess and then tell him I'll never do it again. He won't be happy, but I go to his quarters almost every evening so he'll accept that it was an accident."

"What about not telling him?" Draco asked.

"And then running away?" Hermione added.

"I'll make something up," Harry decided. "Look, I don't like this anymore than you do, but I'm not having Worty get into trouble. It's hard enough your first year here and you make so many mistakes and the teachers rag on you. We'll just say Worty owes me one and leave it at that."

"You're actually taking the fall for him?" Draco shook his head. "How very . . . not Slytherin."

"Yeah, welcome to the Gryffindor way," Ron retorted.

Hermione looked like she would like to protest that they were teaching Worty to lie, but she only said, "Well, I guess we can go back. The picnic's over."

As they walked back, Ron handed the basket to Draco who scowled but carried it. Worty kept glancing worriedly at Harry as if he felt guilty for letting Harry take the blame but was too scared to refuse. Going down to the castle was much easier than the hike up had been, and all too soon they were walking into the castle.

They all stopped, and Harry turned to face them.

"Well, here I go. Hopefully I'll see you at supper."

"What if you and Worty went together?" Hermione suggested. "Maybe you could explain –"

"It's the potion store, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "All bets are off when it comes to the potions store. Believe me, I know."

"But he's not even potions master anymore," Hermione protested.

"Still, it's his store," Harry argued. "It'd be like someone trying to destroy your own private library if you had one."

Hermione considered this and blankly said, "Oh, you're dead, Harry."

"Thanks," he gave her a tight smile. "Well, good bye."

They stood together, watching him like he was headed towards execution. Harry turned and walked slowly down the stairs to the darkness of the dungeons.


	14. Loyal

AN: I am battling off awful allergies so I apologize if there are typos in this. I can barely see for all the sniffling.

Warning: This chapter is rather intense and very angsty. Stern spanking ahead.

Disclaimer: I do not own.

--

Harry made his way down the dark stairs. His stomach flip-flopped over itself again and again as he took shaky steps down the stone stairs. At one point, he nearly tripped and had to grab the wall with a trembling hand. Cursing his nerves, he drew closer and closer to Snape's office.

The door was shut, and Harry gave a soft knock once.

No answer.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, well, he would just have to tell the others that he couldn't find Snape, and they would come up with another plan to –

The door swung open.

Harry blinked at it, but he saw Snape sitting at his desk, stacking papers to one side.

"The door is charmed," Snape explained. "Now whenever you knock, it will open for you. I want you to always have a place you can come to, to feel safe."

Harry swallowed, feeling like an absolute idiot. As he drew closer, he could see that some of the papers were stained with potion, grimy along the edges and stuck together.

"I've changed the wards," Snape continued. "Someone came in here a few hours ago, broke a potion, splattered several pages, and then broke to two vials in my potions store. When I discover who did that –"

"It was me," Harry blurted out.

Snape raised his head to look at him, the man's dark eyes pinning Harry in place. "Excuse me?"

"I broke the potion and it spilled over the pages and then I went into the store to see if I could find more to replace it and then I ran."

Snape looked dumbstruck. "You?" he finally sputtered. "You did this? Why would you do such a thing?"

"I wanted to see what was in the potion flask," Harry went on, his lips feeling oddly numb and rest of his body cold. "It slipped out of my hands."

"Why didn't you call me?" Snape demanded. "I could have cleaned up one potion – you know that. I told you that in the summer."

"I wanted to fix it on my own," Harry said in the same strangled voice.

"So you went in my store? After what happened in July? You went into my store and broke two vials?" Snape seemed torn between fury and disbelief.

"Yes, I want to see if I could replace it," Harry repeated. "I couldn't and I broke them and then I ran."

"But I saw you getting ready to go with the others on that absurd picnic," Snape pointed out. "You were fine, almost careless. You mean to tell me that you did all that and still managed to appear nonchalant in front of your friends when you had ruined my things again? I don't believe it – you were never that good of an actor, Potter."

Harry flinched inwardly at hearing his last name, especially in so cold a voice, but he was not backing down. "I guess I've learned since then," he said stonily.

Snape stared at him for several tense seconds. "And?"

"And that's all," Harry said. "That's all I did."

"That's all you did?" Snape raised his voice several notches. "No apology, no remorse, no sense of sorry for doing something you promised you would never do again?"

"I'm sorry I broken them," Harry replied in the same emotionless voice.

Snape jerked to his feet. "Oh, you're going to be a great deal more than sorry in about two minutes, young man."

Harry did not move until Snape grabbed him by the ear and then marched him towards the desk.

"I am seriously disappointed in you," Snape growled as he shoved some the papers away and bent Harry over the desk. "You know better – this is a second time offense! And if you had come to me right away and told me what you had done, even after going into the store, I would have scolded you, maybe grounded you for the day, but I would not nearly be as upset as I am right now. _Accio ruler_!"

Harry groaned silently; so it was to be the ruler. He was guessing that or the hairbrush, but he would rather the ruler if Snape would not use just his hand. Harry reached out to grab the other end of the desk. How bad could it be? Even if Snape gave him a few dozen hard wallops, Harry was sure he could hang on long enough to finish the punishment and get out without saying anything else. By this point in his punishments, Snape did not really care what he said anymore – the time for talking was over.

CRACK!

The ruler slammed against his bottom, and Harry sucked in a breath of air, tightening his fingers around the edge of the desk.

CRACK! Another just as hard, only an inch lower.

Harry swallowed and tried to think of something else. The pain was always hard to bear (Snape had a way of getting through to him an embarrassingly short amount of time with only a handful of smacks), but Harry did not know how hard it was to stay quiet. Before, at least he could beg and cry and hiss loud "Ows" with every wallop. He hated being spanked, but he was thankful (if he had to find something to be thankful for in his awkward position) for the fact that he understood what he had done wrong and he knew as soon as it was over he and Snape would be back to normal.

Oh, Snape would still be snarky and Harry was sure he'd find some way to annoy the man by his comments or foolish actions, but once a punishment was over, it was done. Even with his bottom well-roasted, Harry always enjoyed that rush of relief when Snape landed the last spank and Harry knew that he no longer had to feel guilty or angry or upset, just remorse (if somewhat teary) and the security of knowing his misdeeds were behind him. And he felt safe in the fact that Snape punished him as exactly as he should: a stern father disciplining a careless son and insisting that he own up to his short-comings.

But now everything was all wrong. Harry was taking the blame for someone else, and rather than try to just endure the punishment so he could feel better afterwards, he felt himself growing angry. There would be no relief at the end because he had done nothing wrong; no tearful nods when Snape spoke to him calmly afterwards and Harry had to suppress his urge to hug the man, no weak smiles at Snape because Harry knew he was forgiven, and no peace afterwards that let him fall asleep that night without having to worry about if Snape still cared about him.

CRACK!

Harry gripped the table tighter and fought off his anger towards Snape. He hated the man at the moment – cruel, sadistic monster that enjoyed other people's pain, that drank in others' misery, that wanted to know that others were hurting . . .

CRACK!

Harry pressed his face against the desk and sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from crying out. He could do this, he could take the pain.

"All right, young man!" Snape bellowed. "That's enough."

Before Harry could reply, iron fingers grabbed his ear and pulled him up, whirling Harry around to face Snape. The man looked livid.

"What is going on?"

"Nothing," Harry looked around.

"Look me in the eye," Snape ordered. When Harry did not obey, Snape grabbed his chin and force Harry to look up. "I don't know what you're doing, Harry, but it ends right now. You have never acted this way with me before. Oh, you've been naughty and rebellious and bad-tempered before, but you've never showed me this sort of blatant disrespect. I don't like it – I feel like I'm beating you, which is not my intention, and I want to know what's going on in that stubborn head of yours."

"Nothing," Harry insisted. "This is what we do. I do something bad, you spank me, and then it's over."

"That is not how our relationship works," Snape argued. "I want you to learn something. I want you stop feeling guilty and dragging yourself around as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. When I spank you for those few minutes, I want you to know that I'm in charge and that you are only responsible for yourself, nothing more."

"I know that," Harry protested.

"Then why are you gripping the table for dear life and refusing to say a word or even make a sound?"

"You like me yelling in pain?" Harry challenged.

"You know what I mean. Stop this foolishness and tell me what is really going on."

"I – I – I," Harry stammered, desperate for anything that would get Snape to stop asking questions.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Harry," Snape said calmly. "Tell me what this is about."

"It's about your need to control everyone and everything," Harry spit out. "Your pathetic want to be bigger and better and above everyone else and make them suffer."

"Fine," Snape said in a hoarse voice. "Have it your way."

He stepped back and drew out his wand. "_Legilime_–"

"No!" Harry protested, thrusting both his hands out. "No, don't read my mind. I'll tell you."

"Too late," Snape shook his head.

"No, no, no! It's not too late. I didn't break any of the potions. Worty did."

"What?" Snape lowered his wand.

"Worty came in and broke the first once and tried to find another and broke two more and then he got scared and ran. He found us on the picnic and he was frightened to death and I said I would take the blame. That's the truth, I promise."

Snape stared at him, speechless again.

Then quick as a flash, he dropped his wand on the table, whirled Harry back over the table, and slapped his hand against Harry's bottom in fast, sharp swats.

"You let me do this to you when you were innocent?" Snape bellowed, continued to spank him. "You had nothing to do with this and you let me get so angry at you that nearly lost my temper and wanted to hurt you, if only to shake off that infuriating apathy you showed me?"

"Ah, Snape!" Harry winced. His arms were trapped under his chest, and Snape wasn't letting up at all. "I didn't want Worty to – Ow! All right, I'm sorry."

"That is the sort of attitude I want from you," Snape snarled. "I have tried so hard with you, Harry. I have done everything in my power to reign in my temper and be patient with you and remind myself over and over again that I am the adult and you're the child and you need boundaries and I can't fly off at the least thing. But now I wonder if all that control of myself has made the smallest difference with you."

Snape stopped spanking, but Harry did not try to get up even though his arms were going numb underneath him.

"I am going to ask you a few questions," Snape continued, "and you better answer them truthfully or I will invade your mind and find every last humiliating thing that ever happened to you, put it in a Pensieve, and make you relive them all every night for the rest of your life."

"I'm listening," Harry squeaked.

"Did you honestly think that I was going to harm Worty? Did you think for a moment that I would be so cruel to that child that you would need to lie to me, thus making him lie to me as well, and risk ruining everything you and I have been through? Do you think I am that heartless and cruel?"

Harry screwed his eyes up tight, but he knew he had to answer truthfully. "No," he said in the smallest voice possible.

_Smack, smack, smack_! Snape began to spank him again.

"Then why on earth would you lie to me and risk it?" Snape exploded.

"Because I didn't want Worty to get in trouble!" Harry wailed as tears gathered in his eyes.

"You – are – not – the – savior – here," Snape spanked him on each word. "Now stand up and march yourself into that corner."

Harry stood shakily, thinking he would much rather lay down on his stamach, but he did not dare object. He crept to the corner where Snape pointed and stood there, waiting.

"Hands behind your neck," Snape ordered. "Lace your fingers together. Eyes straight ahead. I will be back soon and you better have not moved an inch."

"Yes, sir," Harry croaked.

Snape swept out of the room, and Harry kept staring at the wall, pressing his interlocked fingers into his neck. He wished Hermione were here to tell him what to do. Or Ron – Ron would think of something. Even Draco could be useful at a time like this.

Harry heard footsteps in the hallway and a high-pitched pleading accompanying them. A second later, Snape charged into the room, pulling a frantic Worty with him.

"No," the little boy cried, tugging against Snape's hand, "no, please I'm sorry. Oh, please, sir, I promise I won't ever do that again. No, no, I'm sorry."

Harry wanted to turn back and tell Snape to stop, to let the boy go, but Harry kept still, staring with hard eyes into the intersection of the two walls as Worty begged.

"Harry, turn around," Snape ordered.

Harry turned to see Snape sitting in a chair, Worty in between his knees, about to be tipped over Snape's left thigh.

"Stay where you are," Snape instructed Harry. "Hands behind your head. Since you are so concerned about my treatment of Mr. Commultington, you may watch not only how I deal with him now, but also how I would have dealt with him for everything he did today."

Worty was whimpering, but Snape turned the child to face him, keeping both hands on his small shoulders. Harry felt sick, but he knew he had to watch no matter what happened.

"Had you told me about the broken potion as soon as it happened," Snape said to Worty, "I would have given you a detention. You don't touch other people's things. Do you understand?"

Worty nodded, but he still looked terrified.

"Had you come to me after breaking the other two in the potions store and apologized for it, I would have given you two detentions along with a very stern warning about not breaking dangerous objects. Had you run off and then come back this afternoon and admitted what you had done, this would be all you would get." Snape tipped Worty over his knee and began popping his hand against the boy's small bottom.

Worty protested loudly, and Harry flinched at each swat though he knew Snape was not spanking the boy as hard as Snape spanked him.

After ten swats, Snape lifted Worty up and looked the crying boy in the face. "That would have been all you would have gotten. And if you had found Harry and begged him to come with you to face me, I wouldn't have given you more because you were scared. We are all scared at one time or another, but you have to learn not to let your fear overcome your senses and good reasoning."

"I'm sorry," Worty sniffed.

"But you let Harry take the blame for you."

"I offered to," Harry objected.

Snape gave him a warning look, and Harry dropped his gaze, digging his hands deeper into his neck. Snape continued with Worty,

"Since you let Harry take the blame for you, I'm going to be giving you twelve more. They are going to be firm, and you may cry all you need to. But once I do this, it's over and you don't have to worry about it anymore."

Worty nodded weakly, but as Snape tipped him back over his knee, Worty couldn't help whimpering,

"Please not too hard."

The dozen were extremely firm, and Harry had to bite the tip of his tongue to keep from telling Snape to ease up. But the moment the spanking was done, Snape stood Worty up again, and Harry could see the difference on Worty's face. The boy was crying, but he looked relieved and fully accepting of what had happened, even as he rubbed tears away.

"I'm sure you're sorry for what you did," Snape saod somberly, and Worty bobbed his head hastily. "Good. Then why don't you go over and apologize to Mr. Potter as well?"

Worty did not have to be told twice; he rushed towards Harry and wrapped his arms around the older boy as he sniffed, "I'm sorry, Harry. Really, really sorry."

Harry gave Snape an agonized look, and Snape nodded once. Harry immediately dropped his arms down to hug the little boy.

"Hey, calm down," Harry tried to hush him. "You're going to be all right."

"I got you in trouble," Worty cried into Harry's stomach, refusing to back away.

"I got myself in trouble," Harry told him. "But it's over now."

Worty kept clinging to him, but Harry saw Snape stand up, and Harry told Worty, "I need to stay and talk to Snape for a while. Why don't you go find Draco? Tell him I'll come see you later."

Worty hugged Harry one last time before scampering off, the last of his tears drying up.

Snape crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow at Harry. "So, was that what you were so scared of? These last four minutes of discipline had you so frightened for Mr. Commultington's well being that you lied to me?"

"You didn't see him up on the cliff," Harry declared. "He was terrified."

"Of course, he was – he's eleven! You're scared of everything at that age. Were you scared of me your first year here?"

"Yes, but –"

"Did you expect an eleven-year-old to show the same kind of bravery you have now at sixteen? You can stand there and hold your own in an argument with me. That boy can't say a word in front of me without stuttering. And instead of helping him face his fears, you gave him the option of hiding and letting others fight for him."

"I wanted to protect him," Harry tried one last time. "You protect me from things you think I'm not ready for – why can't I do the same for him?"

Snape stepped forward, and Harry barely resisted the urge to scoot back away from the taller man. Snape laid a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder and pulled him forward until Harry could see the pupils of Snape's eyes surrounded in their dark irises.

"Harry, if I did not care about you so much, I think I would just have to tear you to pieces right not. Listen to me once and for all. I don't care what you learn this year. I don't care what strides you make academically, or how many spells you master, or what you score on the N.E.W.T.s. But you will learn this one thing. I am not the enemy."

"I know that –"

"No, listen to me. I am not the enemy, and the moment you start thinking I am, the fight is over. You've lost, and the Dark Lord has won."

Harry blinked at the intensity of Snape's voice and expression.

"I'm serious, Harry. The moment you think I'm enemy and start lying, hiding, avoiding me, shrugging off my advice – it's over for both of us. I am ready to put my life on the line for you, right now, right here, marching to my death to save you. All I want from you is obedience and loyalty."

"You have it," Harry felt desperate to assure Snape. "I'll do what you say, I will. I promise, I'll be good. I have been good – today was just a mistake because I got distracted by Worty and trying to negotiate between Draco and Hermione and Ron. But I'm loyal, I really am."

Snape sighed heavily. "All right, the way I see it, we need to move on, but I have to know that you learned something from today. You know I consider lying a very serious offence, even to protect someone else."

Harry nodded solemnly.

"And you know I punish lying most severely."

Harry nodded again, trying to hide his reluctance.

"I believe you have another thirty coming with the hairbrush," Snape said quietly.

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed and moved towards the desk, but Snape grabbed his arm to stop him.

"No, this time is different. You are going to be responsible for when you get the punishment."

"Me?" Harry repeated, confused.

"Yes, when you think you are ready, you are going to come to me and give me your reasons for why you needed to be disciplined. If I find your reasons adequate and see that you have thought it through, I will oblige you, give them to you, and then it will all be over. I expect you to think this all out and show me what you've learned. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," in a daze, Harry started for the door. He paused and turned back. "Just to make this clear, I decide when I mention this again?"

"Correct," Snape told him.

"So anytime I think I'm ready? Even if it's a week from now?"

"Correct."

"A month?" Harry stared straight at Snape. "Two months?"

"It's up to you," Snape said calmly.

"What if I never mention it?"

"Then it's never over," Snape replied.

Harry gave him one last bewildered, worried look before leaving. Completely lost in his own world, Harry went up the stairs and began to search for his friends.

He finally found them in a nook off the library, sitting in a sunny spot under a window. Hermione was browsing over a book, Ron was eating Bertie Botts' Beans, tossing a few to Draco for him to try, and Worty was sitting beside Draco, red-eyed but smiling as Draco made a face at the taste of the odder beans.

Harry dropped in a seat across from them, causing Ron and Draco to stop eating and Hermione to sit up and close her book.

"You'll never guess what happened," Harry panted. "And I have no idea what to do."


	15. He Lied

AN: An extra long chapter just for my fantastic reviewers.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this.

--

"So that's what happened," Harry concluded, leaning back against the stone wall. "What should I do?"

Draco and Ron glanced to Hermione, but she shook her head. "No, not today, I'm not giving advice."

"First time for everything," Draco smirked.

Ron pulled the large box of candy away from the blond and offered it to Harry.

"Oh, that's what I need," Harry scoffed. "A lot of sugar – Snape would love that."

"He doesn't let you have candy?" Ron tossed back a handful of beans and made a face at the combined flavors. Worty giggled, and Ron offered him the box next.

"He doesn't want me to do anything fun," Harry snapped. "All day, everyday, he's on my back."

"You should get the punishment over as quick as possible," Hermione suddenly said.

"Really?"

"Yes, because you'll be short-tempered with us until you do," she replied candidly. "We don't want to see you being mean and grouchy just because you're upset at Snape."

"I'm not grouchy," Harry shot back at her. Ron glared at him, and Harry relented, "All right, maybe I'm a bit out of temper, I'll admit. But I have every right to be. Only Snape would make me have to ask for a punishment and explain what I've learned just so he can give my thirty whacks with a hairbrush. Thirty! Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Worty shuddered and then popped more candy in his mouth.

"I don't even know what to say," Harry went on, glad to finally have friends to complain to. In the summer, he had felt lonely, especially when he and Snape were at odds with each other. "I don't want to start babbling and then he watches me with his classic 'Potter is an idiot expression."

"He doesn't call you that anymore, does he?" Hermione asked.

"Only when I deserve it," Harry muttered.

"What does he expect you to learn exactly?" Ron questioned.

"I don't know!"

"You must remember something," Draco insisted. "Did he want you to apologize or admit you had mucked it all up?"

"Mum always wanted us to really be sorry and not do it again," Ron put in.

"That's good – use that," Draco urged. "Tell him you'll never do it again. That usually shuts him up for a bit."

"But it's about lying – he always catches me for lying."

"Then stop telling lies," Hermione sighed.

"What – tell the truth all the time? That will never work," Harry shook his head.

"Well, how will you know if you never try?" Hermione asked, snippily.

"Oh, fine. Hermione, you're one of my best friends, but you can be a bossy twit sometimes."

Hermione huffed, and Ron gave an angry "Hey! Watch it."

"And though Ron defends you," Harry went on, "he calls you controlling, and when we first met you, he called you a mental headcase or something like that."

"But in the nicest way," Ron assured her.

"You don't have to be bluntly honest," Hermione pointed out. "You can be tactfully honest, omitting things that would hurt other people's feelings."

"I guess," Harry sighed. There was silence for a few seconds, and then he added, "Sorry about the bossy twit part."

"That's fine," she nodded. "I call you an irresponsible, helpless child all the time."

"A four-eyed freak," Draco put it and Ron added, "A complete moron about the Wizarding world."

"I hate honesty," Harry sighed.

--

He spent the rest of the day wandering about, went to supper with Ron and Hermione, and went up to Gryffendor Tower early. He planned to read or play chess with Ron until bedtime, but Harry had just settled down in his favorite armchair when Luna came to stand beside him.

"Hi, Harry," she smiled dreamily. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Harry lied. "What about you?"

"I'm fine though my things have started disappearing again."

Harry frowned. "I can help you look for them."

"Oh, no worries," Luna began tilting her head back and forth as if keeping time to a song only she could hear. "I would love to spend time with you, but a professor is looking for you."

"Madame Moretta?" Harry sat up.

"No," she breathed softly, "Professor Snape. He stopped me in the hall, asked if I knew where you were. I said no, but that I would find you. And I did find you."

"But what did he want?" Harry pressed.

"He said to ask you if you knew what time it was and that you had detention, but not in that order. Detention first, and then the time."

"I don't have detention with him," Harry said crossly. "If anything I would have – oh, no, the training!"

He leapt to his feet and ran over to Ron and Hermione. "Quick, what do I do?" he hissed to them. "I'm supposed to be training with Snape."

"Go do it," Hermione urged.

"But we're fighting."

"Yeah, but if you don't show up, will it make things better?" Ron asked.

"Good point," Harry nodded. He took a few steps towards the door and then he turned back. "What if he asks about the you-know-what?"

"Have you thought of anything more?" Hermione asked. When Harry shook his head, she replied, "Then don't bring it up. If he asks, say you need more time to think."

"Good," Harry agreed. He took another step towards the door and then looked back. "What if he asks why I can't think of something in a whole afternoon?"

"I don't know, but I think you should definitely stay and talk to us because the longer he waits, the happier he gets," Ron said sarcastically.

Harry flew for the door.

He made it down to the dungeon in record time, and he knocked on the office door which swung open immediately. Snape was standing by his desk, arms crossed.

"You're late."

"I know," Harry panted, "I was busy with – no, no, I just forgot. That's the truth."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You forgot?"

"I've had a lot on my mind," Harry said truthfully. "And I wasn't sure you wanted to see me until I was ready to – you know."

"Are you ready?" Snape asked.

Harry swallowed, "Not really, but if you want, I can give it my best."

"Take your time." Snape motioned towards the door to the training room. "Go on in."

"You're not coming?" Harry blinked.

"You have another trainer."

Harry's chest hurt as he headed for the door. He wished he had just made something up and gotten his punishment out of the way so Snape would train him. But Snape had passed his training off to another person? That really hurt.

Harry opened the door, but inside was pitch black. He stepped farther into the darkness, and the door swung shut, immersing him into total blackness.

Harry reached for his wand, but suddenly light flared up in the middle of the room, illuminating Madame Moretta in the center.

Harry's first instinct was to rush back to the door, but he didn't want to turn his back on the woman, and he thought that backing up would show his fear. He wrapped his fingers around the end of his wand, staring at her, hard and intense.

"Come forward, Harry," she instructed in a soft voice.

"I take it you're my substitute trainer," Harry said in a tight voice.

"What if I wasn't?" Moretta asked, her eyes glinting in the dull light. "What if you were supposed to train with McGonagall and I killed her to take her place? What if Professor Snape expects you to train with Moretta and I'm a Death Eater who drank Polyjuice Potion and took her place?"

"Then I have to be ready," Harry lifted up his wand. "And I can trust no one."

"Good boy," she smiled coldly. Then she took out her wand and blasted a curse at him, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Harry hit the stones and barely had time to register pain when he had to roll out of the way before she could hurl another curse at him.

He tried to think of one to shout out at her, but she was mixing verbal and non-verbal curses at him, and Harry had to keep running and ducking to avoid them. He jumped into the air and whirled back, shouting,

"_Expelliarmus_!"

His spell hit Moretta, but she only backed up a step, quickly regaining her balance.

"Is that the best you can do?" she hissed at him. "A weak, silly spell?"

"_Incendio_!" he shouted, pointing at her long back robes.

Sparks shot against the folds of her robe, but they did not catch fire.

"_Incarcerous_," Moretta screamed. Ropes shot out of her wand, hurling forth to bind him.

Harry shouted "_Expelliarmus_" again, and the ropes slowed enough for him to dash out of the way.

Their dueling became more and more violent as the training wore on, and Harry wondered just how far he should go in fighting the woman. He didn't want to really harm her (he was pretty sure it was his Potions professor, despite what she had said earlier). That was the problem with Snape, Harry fumed as he ran as fast as he could with a trail of curses at his heels. Snape never told him what he was getting into before he pushed Harry into the thick of things. Everything was test, a stupid test to drive him mad because he never knew how to react or how far to go or what Snape was thinking and –

"Umph!" Harry fell to the ground as vines sprung out of the ground and wrapped around his ankles.

He clawed to pull them off, but he wasn't quick enough. Moretta strode over to him and pointed her wand down at him.

"And you would end here, dead," she said coldly.

Immediately, the lights of the training room flared on. The vines dropped from Harry's feet as Snape came in, but the man's face was completely blank.

"He's making progress," Moretta announced stiffly. "But he still has far to go."

She swept out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Snape.

"Thanks," Harry was sarcastic as he stood up, slightly sore from being flung to the floor so many times, "I appreciate that."

Snape said nothing, just led Harry to the door.

"What – that's it?" Harry challenged. "That was barely fifteen minutes."

"Every Saturday night you'll be tested on your reflexes and your fighting skills," Snape replied. "A short, but real fight."

Harry looked up at his adopted father, wanting so much to yell what he was feeling, but Harry couldn't say a word. Somehow, he and Snape always ended up at this cold, silent place where neither one of them wanted to give in to the other or even knew how.

"Good night," Harry said bluntly.

"Good night," Snape replied.

Realizing he would get no more out of the man, Harry headed for the door and shut it behind him. By the time he reached his bedroom he was sore, out of breathe, and furious at Snape. As he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed (far earlier than any of his dorm mates), Harry had only angry thoughts about Snape.

--

By Tuesday afternoon, Harry was so insanely furious with Snape that he glared at the man every time they passed, and he answered as shortly as possible to any questions posed. Harry had gone to training on Sunday and Monday nights, but he had not engaged in any conversation with the man.

His friends had not been helpful at all. Hermione offered to help him compose a list of things he could apologize for, just to end the turmoil, but Harry was done thinking about it. He was not apologizing for anything anymore, he told her. Ron advised that he just ask Snape to paddle him and get it all out of the way.

"Because," Rom had argued, "anyone can take thirty swats, and once they're done, you're free."

Harry thought that was rather easy for Ron to say since he wasn't the one in trouble.

Draco told him to stop being such a whiner about everything, and Harry told him to shut it, and they had a bit of a shoving match before Transfiguration before McGonagall had come out. She threatened to take away House points, and both boys ducked into the classroom without any further fuss. McGonagall kept a stern eye on them for the whole class, but neither Draco or Harry did anything to provoke the other into unruly behavior.

And of course Worty was so young, Harry didn't even ask his opinion. A part of Harry blamed Worty for the whole problem, and Harry knew he shouldn't do that, but it only made him angrier at himself for trying to shift the guilt.

After classes were over on Tuesday, Harry went to search for his friends, but he could not find them. He wondered if they were hiding from him because he was so grouchy lately, and Harry growled at having such fickle, fair-weathered friends that ran whenever their friend need them.

He was contemplating forgetting them all and going to make all new friends when he passed by a classroom door and heard Snape exclaim,

"But that is just the problem – he never thinks before does anything."

Fuming, Harry marched closer to the door, ready to fling it open and demand to know whom Snape was talking to, but then McGongall's voice replied,

"You expect too much from him. He's only a child."

So they were discussing him – how perfectly lovely. Harry crouched closer, eager to hear what his Head of House and adopted father said about him when he was not there.

"He's not just any child, and you know that, Minerva," Snape replied. "He's destined to do great things and I have to make sure he's capable of doing those great things. He needs to recognize I am trying to help him."

"I'm sure that deep down, Harry knows exactly what you are trying to do. And in the great hour of his destiny, he will rely on you and know that he needs you to accomplish what he has to do. But in the everyday tedium and especially here at school, you can't expect him to hold you on that pedestal you wish to stand on."

"I'm not standing on a pedestal," Snape declared. "I don't expect him to give me the same honor and reverence he shows Dumdledore, though a little of it wouldn't hurt. But he cannot think of me as the enemy."

"Of course you're the enemy," McGonagall exploded. "We're always the enemy. To any child in this castle who does not want to study or gets caught cheating or pulls a prank or wanders out after curfew, we are the enemy. If we weren't, I would know we were doing something wrong. If children acted perfect, they could run the school themselves, and we would be out of a job. But they aren't perfect, and we are here to make them behave."

"But he lied to me," Snape protested. "Lied right to my face."

"Well, if you recognized it right off, then you are doing very well indeed. I can tell with most children, but with Harry, it's harder because he usually lies to protect someone's feelings."

"What about my feelings?"

"You're the adult, and Harry has trouble remembering that you have feelings because you take care of him," McGonagall pointed out. "Later, when he's older, I hope you become more of friends and share thoughts and feelings freely, but right now you're the parent and he's the child. He's going to misbehave, he's going to push you, he going to do things without thinking."

"But I'm trying to teach him to think before he does things, to learn to keep himself safe."

"And theoretically, that is an excellent idea," McGonagall assured him. "But practically, it's not working. Harry and you are at some kind of stalemate now, and neither one of you will bend. It's awful for the both of you, but it's misery for the rest of us. Lecture him, ground him, spank him, do whatever you have to do to make it right between the two of you."

Harry scowled at her words. He was sure McGonagall objected to corporal punishment, especially after that time when Draco had been turned into a ferret, but it seemed that McGonagall only objected at corporal punishment for other students, not for Harry Potter.

"I want him to learn something from this," Snape objected. "If I punish him and it's over, he won't learn a thing."

"Severus," McGonagall's voice was tight, "if he learns to fear lying to you and dreads the thought of speaking a word of untruth to you ever again, then you have made a step towards progress. The problem with you is that you're still angry at James Potter for bullying you as a child. You want Harry to be the friend that James never would be, but you also want the respect as teacher. You cannot have it both ways, you can't. You can't have Harry as a friend and as a son right now – it will never work."

"But –"

"No, it's impossible. True friends share equality, an equal exchanging of ideas and conversation and interests. As long as you're his father, you are the one in charge who makes the rules. And wanting him to come apologize – that's what a good friend would do eventually. A son might as well, but when he doesn't, a good father doesn't get upset and brood in silence. He confronts the child, corrects the problem, and tries to get everything back to normal."

"Easier said than done," Snape muttered.

"Harry wants everything to go back to normal," McGonagall raised her voice a notch. "He wants your approval, and he's been miserable since Saturday. I see him sitting in the Great Hall, giving you quick glances every so often and then staring back at his food, very unhappy. I don't pretend to understand what you did with him this summer. I didn't approve of him staying with you at all. But he came back healthy and happy, smiling more than I have ever seen him smile, so I said nothing. But now you have to be the adult and confront him. I'm sorry if he hurt you, but that's what children do. Go and deal with him, or so help me I'll deal with you, Severus Snape."

Harry heard footsteps heading towards the door, and he broke into a run down the hall, running for dear life. Once he was sure he was safe, Harry dropped into a stone chair and tried to process what he had heard. It was so much information at once, and Harry felt guilty for listening, but at the same time, he was glad he did because now he understood Snape's side.

And if Harry had to be honest with himself (always hard), he did seem rather bratty from the adults' point of view. He did lie quite a bit, and he was selfish in never considering Snape's feelings. Snape had really changed since last year, and Harry wouldn't have traded anything for last summer with Snape.

Harry leapt to his feet and headed for the dungeon, hurrying over the stones as fast as he could. He reached the closed door, knocked, and waited for it to open.

"Snape?" he called as he walked in. "Snape, where are you?"

The office was empty, but that did not stop Harry. He ran into Snape's bedroom – empty. Harry went back into the office and glanced around. The stones were back in place, hiding the door to the training room so Harry guessed Snape wasn't in there either. That only left the closed door to the potions store.

Harry tiptoed up to the door and tapped his knuckles against it gently. "Snape?" he whispered. "Are you in there?"

No answer came, so Harry backed away carefully. If he went the rest of his life without entering a potions store, that would be fine with him. Not knowing what to do, Harry flung himself down on the sofa. Why wasn't Snape there? He belonged in his office – he had no right to go wandering other places.

Harry grabbed one of the pillows, punched it twice, and flung it across the room. It hit the hall door and flopped to the floor. It lay still for a second until the door opened.

Snape saw the pillow and stooped to pick it up. As he straightened, he saw Harry and blinked. "Harry?"

"I need to talk to you," Harry jumped off the sofa.

"Well, I'm right here," Snape tossed the pillow on a nearby chair. He crossed his arms and waited for Harry to start.

Harry looked up at the tall man. "I've been thinking about what you wanted me to think about."

"And?" Snape prompted.

"And I've come to the decision that I was wrong for lying to you. I should have explained what happened and told you I was worried about Worty. I shouldn't have lied, and I'm very sorry for it. I will try very hard to tell the truth next time."

"I'm glad to hear it," Snape said calmly.

"And I've also realized something else," Harry went on. His hands were shaking, but he kept talking. "I made a lot of mistakes. I am not perfect. But you know what? Neither are you!"

Snape's mouth fell open.

"That's right," Harry insisted. "You make mistakes, too. The only difference is you're bigger and older than me so I get spanked for my mistakes and you get off free. You were awful to me the first five years here. Before this summer, you wanted to make me miserable. Well, now, you still want to, but you do it through these horrible exercises and training and thinking. I never had to think about things before you adopted me – now all I do is think. 'What would Snape want me to do? What would Snape say about this?' Maybe you should start thinking what I would do. Then you'd see how hard it is."

"You're asking for it now," Snape warned, but he did not try to stop Harry.

"That must be an easy answer for you. Anytime I start asking questions you don't like to hear, you just threaten to spank me, and I have to shut up. Well, I'm not shutting up. You may be my father and my teacher and my trainer and the man who makes every last decision in my life, but you were a rotten git for five years."

"I admit I treated you a bit unfairly," Snape grounded out the words between clenched teeth.

"There was nothing fair about. You tried to have me expelled and gave me endless detentions and wouldn't listen to me when I needed help. You may have hated my other father, but I'm not him. You were too short-sighted to see anything besides how much you hated him. Even I've learned to get along with Draco, but you couldn't get over your feelings towards my dad after all these years and he was dead. So don't talk to me about thinking everything out because you didn't think that out."

"I'm only concerned for your safety – you know that," Snape retorted.

"So you don't care if I'm happy or not now as long I'm safe later?"

"I want you to be happy now," Snape insisted. "But I want you to think about the future. You have a destiny, but –"

"I don't care about my destiny," Harry shouted. "I think it's stupid – 'You will be destined to do this or that.' I make my own decisions right here, right now. You taught me that. You taught me that I am in control only of myself and what I do. Otherwise, why do anything if everything is already planned out? I make my own choices and I answer for my mistakes. And as for me thinking you're the enemy – your greatest enemy, Severus Snape, has always been yourself."

"You're delirious," Snape scoffed.

"No, I'm not. For your entire life, you've been trying to prove that you're worth something, that you matter, that someone should take you seriously. Well, it's absurd to think that now because you do matter. To me! I changed how I felt about you, I realized I wasn't alone anymore, I signed the guardian sheet, and I signed the adoption thing, too."

Snape still had his arms crossed, but he did not look as angry as before.

"I could have gotten away," Harry continued hotly. "I could have refused to sign or run off or set the house on fire intentionally. But I didn't. I suffered through your learning how to become a father and punishing me and scolding me and making me study. I've earned the right for you to trust me. And I don't want you to go talking about me to McGonagall again."

"You heard that?" Snape bellowed.

"Yes, I listened at the door. Apparently, you don't have enough faith in me or you wouldn't have to go talking to her about me."

"I needed parenting advice," Snape snapped.

"She doesn't have any children," Harry yelled back. "You want advice about how to handle me? Come talk to me!"

"You were being impossible."

"So were you!"

"Sometimes you are an insufferable child," Snape declared.

"And sometimes you're a right bastard, but you're my father, and I still love you," Harry shot back. He meant to deliver the words and stomped out, but suddenly it got to be too much for him. His eyes stung horribly and he covered them with his hand, swallowing as hard as he could. Clutching his hand to his face, he stood there, fighting against his feelings.

Snape sighed and then walked to Harry. "Come on," he urged. "Sit on the sofa with me."

By the time they reached the sofa, Harry was choking back sobs, hating himself for being such a girl and crying over something like a shouting match. Snape sat him down, and then the man took a seat beside him. Harry kept taking huge, heaving breaths, but he couldn't seem to calm himself down.

"Shh, hush," Snape said. He leaned against the back of the sofa and put his arm around Harry's shoulders. Gently, almost hesitantly, Snape pulled the boy over and pressed Harry's unruly head of hair against his shoulder. Harry didn't even pretend to protest – he leaned into Snape and kept sniffing back tears.

"Such temper," Snape scolded, but the words were low and soft, "such temper from you. You can never just tell me how you feel. You have to shout it at me at the top of your lungs."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. He raised a hand to swipe at his lingering tears.

"We do make a pair, don't we?" Snape gave a rueful laugh. "Both of us needing each other, but too stubborn to admit it."

"You're older – you should know better," Harry muttered into the black fabric of Snape's robe.

"I should. But we're both learning."

"Am I still going to get the hairbrush?" Harry asked into the fabric.

"All thirty swats of it," Snape promised. Harry winced, but Snape patted his shoulder. "I'm going to let you keep your trousers on, though. And I'm putting you over my knee instead of the table. I don't swing as hard when you're over my knee."

"Liar," Harry sniffed.

Snape smiled. "Probably. But we're going to do this and then it's over and we can start from there. We always seem to be starting over after our fights."

Harry sighed, then took a deep breath. He tried to get up, but Snape tightened his arm around his son.

"No, in a few minutes. We're taking our time right now."

Harry put his head back down and stared blankly at the opposite wall. "I don't like that you talk to McGonagall about me," he finally said.

"Do you talk to your friends about me?" Snape asked.

Harry paused and then nodded into Snape's shoulder.

"Do you think it's fair for us to talk about our problems to other people if we still talk to each other?" Snape asked.

"That's fair," Harry nodded again.

"For you, young man," Snape gave Harry's shoulder a warm squeeze, "I would see that everything was fair if I could . . . and your hair still looks unruly." Snape pushed down a clump of dark hair that sprang right back up. "I thought you were going to think obedient thoughts to tame it."

"I lied," Harry smiled cheekily.


	16. Bonded

Disclaimer: I make money, but not from this.

--

Harry tried to breathe carefully, not wanting to collapse into sobs.

"Twenty-eight," Snape counted.

Harry dug his fingers into the wooden leg of the chair and Snape's trouser leg.

"Almost there," Snape told him calmly.

"Just do it," Harry snapped, pushing back tears.

"Temper," Snape warned.

Whack! The hairbrush hit him again, and a groan escaped Harry's clenched teeth.

"Twenty-nine," Snape said. "Last one."

WHACK! The last swat was impressive, and Harry felt his sweaty, aching fingers slip a little.

It had been so humiliating, having to bend over Snape's lap for his discipline. As the man sat down and gestured for Harry to come closer, Harry realized that he hadn't been over Snape's knee since the summer, when he had grabbed Snape's wand and blown up a wall in the manor.

That punishment had not been as severe, just a dozen or so swats to remind him not to cross Snape and to behave. And to stop blowing things up, but that was impossible, of course.

None of his memories had helped to distract him from his predicament, and Harry had hesitated next to Snape's side, gazing fearfully at the hairbrush in Snape's right hand.

"Not too hard," Harry had urged. "I mean, I know you have to be firm, you know, but there's no reason to overdo it. I know what I'm supposed to learn from this, and then it will be over, but just a little easier than last time, please. I only lied to protect someone else, sort of."

"Lying is lying," Snape had told him. "Over my lap."

Harry had huffed and shifted and rolled his eyes, but then he stepped forward and began to bend forward. He had been ten inches from Snape's lap when he had leaned back up to add,

"And really I already cried so you don't have to make me. Well, you don't make me cry, and I know I don't have to cry though I do, but all the same, I'd rather not. Hard enough I can feel it, but not enough to break me into pieces, you know."

"Oh, hush,' Snape had growled, pulling him forward. "This is supposed to be your discipline, not a negotiation."

"Hmph!" Harry had sulked and then the hairbrush had started.

By now it was over, and he had not cried. Snape held him down over his lap, and Harry panicked,

"I'm sorry, I didn't cry – I don't know why."

"It's all right," Snape assured. He helped Harry stand as he continued, "I know you feel bad about what you did – you usually cry because you're dealing with all the guilt from disobeying me. But you got most of that out before."

"Didn't stop you from laying into me," Harry grumbled. He reached back to rub out the sting. "I don't see why you had to follow through. Yes, I know you're just showing me that you keep your word, so you don't have to start all that again."

He snapped the last bit, showing his wounded ego and smarting feelings along with his hurting backside. Snape did not reply; he stood and put the hairbrush aside. Then he stepped forward, opening his arms.

Harry stepped warily. "What are you doing?"

"I guess you didn't listen to my whole conversation with McGonagall. She told me that at the end of our little talks, I should hug you. So that's what I'm doing."

If Snape had simply hugged him, Harry would not have minded, and he would have accepted the embrace, maybe even felt grateful for it. But now, knowing that McGonagall had told Snape to do it and the man was doing only because she told him to, Harry shook his head.

"I don't want to."

"Harry," Snape frowned as he held out his arms insistently, "you will come and be hugged right this second."

"No, I don't want to be hugged," Harry argued, backing up even farther.

"You will be hugged and you will enjoy it or I use the hairbrush again," Snape threatened.

Scowling, Harry stalked towards Snape and stood stiffly, waiting.

Snape pulled Harry into an embrace, hugging his arms around the boy's shoulders. Harry stayed stiff as a poker.

"Hug me back," Snape ordered. "Right now, hands up, around me. No, don't just lay them on my back – tighten them into a hug. Harry, Harry, stop!"

Harry, in all his naughtiness, had squeezed Snape once and then let his whole body go limp. Snape found himself with an armful of deadweight as Harry sagged like a doll.

"Ugh," Harry groaned tragically. "He killed me. He made me hug him, and it killed me. I'm – I'm dead now."

"Enough foolishness," Snape scolded. "Stand up – I will drop you if you don't stop."

Harry straightened, trying not to grin too broadly. Snape reached out to tousle his unruly hair before saying,

"All right, I guess that will do you for now. Why don't you study for a while?"

The thought of sitting on a hard chair was not appealing, and Harry countered, "Can't I go flying instead?"

"You've caught up with all your homework?" Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Su-u-ure," Harry looked away.

"We just went over not lying," Snape protested.

"Fine, I'll do homework," Harry gave a martyred sigh and began to trudge towards the door.

"Good. Oh, and Harry? Since it seems that you have so much time to get into trouble, we will be increasing your training. I spoke earlier about starting Occlumency, and we'll practice in your break time every morning. You have a free period in the mornings, yes?"

"Yes," Harry admitted reluctantly. "But you know how much I hate Occlumency."

"That, dear boy," Snape smirked, "is just an added bonus."

"Cruel git," Harry muttered.

"And keep your weekends free," Snape sat down in his armchair and picked up a book.

"Why?" Harry came back to stand in the middle of the room.

"I want to take you to Hogsmeads one weekend."

The idea of going to Hogsmeads filled Harry with excitement, especially if it was not a weekend for students go. But he refused to let himself show his eagerness – Snape needed to learn lessons as well.

"That's rude, too, you know," Harry pointed out.

"Excuse me?" Snape closed his book to look right at his son.

"It's polite to ask me first," Harry explained. "I mean, the training is one thing, but with the weekends, you should ask if I have plans."

"You don't have any plans," Snape scoffed.

"I know, but it's the principle of the matter. I am sixteen after all. I get tired of always being treated like a child, going and doing whatever you say whenever you have a whim for me to do something."

Snape looked at the teenager in front of him, green eyes under the mop of dark hair, the way Harry leaned on one leg and never knew what to do with his arms. Snape wanted to snap at him that whatever he said they would do, but . . .

"Harry, do you have any free time on Saturdays?" Snape asked politely.

"Yes, sir, I can spare some time," Harry replied, also polite. "Did you need me for something?"

"I wanted to train longer with you in the dungeons," Snape told him.

"Hey! You said Hogsmeads," Harry objected.

"That was before you annoyed me," Snape returned.

"Snape!" Harry protested.

"And another thing – I'm tired of you calling me Snape. I've called you by your first name for weeks now."

"Fine, _Severus_," Harry emphasized the name.

"I don't like that," Snape decided.

"We did this before," Harry huffed. "I even asked Dumbledore. Can I just call you Dad when we're alone and call you Snape when I'm mad at you? Oh, and I'll call you Professor Snape when we're around other people."

"I will be glad when the whole war is done and we don't have to hide the adoption anymore," Snape said. "Of course, then, it won't really matter."

Much later, Harry would remember Snape's words and wonder exactly what the man had meant at that moment. Much later, Harry would ponder Snape's intentions and if his adopted father understood the choices he was prepared to make. And much later, Harry would curse his own stupidity at not recognizing the importance behind Snape's words.

But since he could not look ahead to the future, Harry just nodded and said, "Yeah, me, too. Keeping secrets is hard after a while, Dad."

"Indeed, it is," Snape agreed.

--

The next morning, Harry sat through his first classes, dreading his free period when they would start Occlumency lessons. He was so distracted he completely missed McGonagall asking him a question, and when she repeated it, he couldn't even hazard a guess. She frowned and told him to pay attention before moving on to Hermione who knew the answer.

And after the class was over, Harry sighed and began to trudge back down to the dungeons. He hoped for something, anything, to hinder him going down. He even pushed a Slytherin student a bit harder than he had to in order to get by. But instead of starting a fight, the Slytherin told him no hard feelings and kept walking. Harry considered yelling out names, but he knew Snape might accept the fight excuse if another student attacked Harry but not if Harry started the fight himself.

Snape was waiting for him in his office. "All right, Harry, let's –"

"Just a second," Harry said as he bent down to tie his shoe. He purposely tied it a little loose and then had to retie it. He straightened slowly and said, "Let me stretch out first."

He took a few seconds to lean to one side and then the other, touch his toes, swing his arms in circles, and lean his head back and forth. Snape waited, half-indulgent, half-impatient. When Harry started bending his hands back and forth to loose them up, Snape lost patience with him.

Taking out his wand, Snape bellowed, "Legilimens!"

"Wait! I'm not ready –" Harry's words were lost as his mind seemed to explode and he found himself in the middle of memories. They flashed in front of him until Snape slowed down to observe one.

Unfortunately, that certain memory happened to be the time Harry snuck out to Hogsmeade in his third year and his head was spotted by Draco. Helplessly, Harry watched himself consulting the Marauders' Map, collecting his Cloak, and sneaking out. Harry tried to turn away and found Snape standing right beside him. Snape was watching the thirteen-year-old Harry with a dour expression.

"That was three year ago," Harry protested. "Why do you want to come here?"

"Just wanted to see you being naughty," Snape answered.

"This was nothing. I did things loads worse than sneaking . . ." Harry trailed off as Snape turned to look at him, the man's face ominous. "I mean, you know – shouldn't I be trying to push you out of my head?"

"Yes," Snape nodded, "but while I'm here, let's take a look at your worst memory, shall we? What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

Harry tried to make his mind go blank, but it was too late. He found himself watching himself flying over trees on his broomstick, pushing himself faster and faster.

"Where are you going?" Snape asked as they watched the flying Harry settle down on the ground.

"Malfoy Manor," Harry groaned. "Oh, don't do it – turn back, you idiot. I'm about to cross the barrier."

"You're drinking a potion to make yourself look different," Snape observed. "That's right – you stole from me, too."

He reached over to whack Harry on the back of the head.

"Ow," Harry rubbed his head. "That was months ago. And why does it hurt when you hit me? Aren't we in my head?"

"It hurts because you expect it to hurt," Snape replied.

"Really? So if I don't expect it to hurt, it won't? Try it again and I'll pretend you aren't –"

Snape smacked him again on the same place. Harry winced and rubbed his head once more.

"So my theory didn't work. But last year, we weren't in my head together like this. We saw my memories, but not standing together."

"It's the adoption," Snape explained. "We're bonded now."

"That sounds gay," Harry smirked.

He ducked, avoiding another smack aimed at the back of the head.

"Watch yourself," Snape admonished.

"This is boring," Harry gestured to Malfoy Manor where the potion-altered version of himself was walking up the front steps. "I go in and talk to Narcissa and you come and catch me. And I don't want to see myself wailing from seeing Sirius. Let's go somewhere else."

Harry closed his eyes and stood very still.

"What are you doing?" Snape demanded.

"I'm imagining we're in a pastry shop, and I'm eating chocolate cake stuffed with pudding."

"This isn't a dream – you can't get things you want by imagining them," Snape snarled. "You're supposed to be learning, not thinking about pudding."

"Fine, enough about me. Let's get in your mind," Harry turned to face Snape. "What's your worst memory, Snape?"

Snape froze just for a second, fear on his face, and then they were surrounded by Death Eaters, masks and hooded cloaks. It was midnight, in the middle of the woods, and the Death Eaters were gathered around a blazing fire that had iron pokers stuck into it.

"What's happening?" Harry whispered, forgetting they could not see or hear him.

"I'm about to become a Death Eater," Snape replied calmly. "It's the night I get the Dark Mark."

Harry could feel the air prickle with evil, and he blanched as Voldemort, still human, stepped forward. Voldemort reached for one of the poker and held up the red-tipped iron.

"Severus Snape," Voldemort hissed.

A Death Eater stepped up and removed his mask and his hood. Harry found himself staring at a younger Snape, not even in his twenties yet, but with the same dark hair and hooked nose. The younger Snape's eyes were blazing with fury and revenge as he stalked up to Voldemort, baring his left arm and thrusting it forward.

Voldemort smiled evilly and drew the poker back, ready to plunge it into Snape's pale skin.

"Ugh," Harry looked away, "I want to leave."

"Wait," Snape ordered, but Harry was not listening.

Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated on pushing Snape out of his mind, on closing himself off from the man, on separating himself. A second later, Harry stumbled backwards on the floor of Snape's office, barely catching himself from falling back.

"I told you to wait," Snape lectured.

"No," Harry shook his head, "I wasn't going to watch him brand you."

"You need to face your fears," Snape said crossly.

"And I will face my fears," Harry replied. "But there are some things I should never have to see. That wasn't your worst memory, but it would have been mine."

Snape seemed at loss for words for a moment. "I – you can't – why do you think that wasn't my worst memory?"

"You're a skilled occlumentist," Harry pointed out. "You wouldn't ever let me into your mind to see your worst memory, but you would give me a bad memory, just to throw me off."

"You already saw my worst memory last year," Snape snapped. "Remember the Pensieve?"

"Being bullied by a bunch of teenagers was your worst memory?" Harry challenged. "You were a Death Eater, a spy. You have to have awful memories from that."

"You're getting really too clever for your own good," Snape decided as he turned away.

"I'm learning," Harry answered smugly.

--

They did not make it to Hogsmeade until the first weekend in October. By then the last of the warm summer had disappeared, and the autumn air had a chill to it. Before they left to go to the village, Snape insisted Harry wear a hoodie though his son insisted he would be warm enough from walking. Snape won, of course, and by eleven o'clock they were entering the village. Harry had taken an altering potion that turned his hair light brown and rearranged his face along with covering his scar. He felt a little smaller, too.

"Why do I always have to change my looks?" Harry grumbled as they walked down the street. "Why can't you change yours?"

"Because people would recognize you and wonder why you were hanging about some strange man," Snape retorted. "Besides, I think you look simple adorable like that."

"I look like a twelve-year-old," Harry hissed as he caught his reflection in a nearby window.

"Eleven," Snape corrected. "They may give me some thick spell books for you to sit on so you can reach the table."

"And the _Daily Prophet_ will read 'Potions Professor Found Strangled in Hogsmeade'," Harry muttered grimly as he trudged along.

It was not quite so bad as Harry feared – they found seats at the Three Broomsticks and Madame Rosmerta came over to take their orders.

"Nice young guest you have there, Mr. Snape," she smiled at him and Harry.

"Yes," Snape said dourly. "Two butterbeers."

"Right away," Rosmerta turned to fetch them.

Harry glanced around the pub and smiled briefly at Snape before dropping his gaze to the menu.

"What?" Snape asked coldly.

"Nothing," Harry shrugged. "It's just – I've never really gone out to a pub."

"You've been here before," Snape retorted.

"Oh, yeah, for a butterbeer with Ron and Hermione, but not to really eat, and never with – you know, an adult. Can I have anything on the menu?"

"No," Snape replied, "the fire whiskey is off limits."

"I know that," Harry protested. "I meant food. Is there a – a limit with price?"

"Just order something," Snape growled. "And no sugar until afterwards. You'd have only ice cream if I let you."

"Pudding," Harry corrected. "I just wanted to know if I could – oh, what's she doing here?"

Madame Moretta had walked in and was looking around the pub.

Harry slouched down in his seat. "Maybe she won't see us. Nosy bint – ow, that hurt!"

Snape pretended like he had not kicked Harry under the table and gave Moretta a brief smile as she came to their table.

She ignored Harry and quietly said, "Two o'clock."

"Good," Snape said.

She turned and walked out of the pub without another word.

"What was that all about?" Harry huffed, a little put off by being ignored. He looked different, of course, but she could have at least said hello.

"Never mind," Snape told him. "Decide what you want to eat."

They had a very filling meal, perhaps too filling, Harry reflected as they walked out. He wanted to sit down or lie down and just enjoy the rest of the Saturday, but Snape had other plans. He went into several shops, insisting that Harry come with him and pretend to be interested in boring stuff like cauldrons and potion supplies. Harry wanted to get a bag full of sweets, but Snape declared they didn't have room to carry it around.

"I'll carry it," Harry objected as they went out.

"No, you won't. It's almost two – let's go."

"Where?" Harry wondered out loud.

Snape said nothing as they walked swiftly down the room. Hogsmeade disappeared behind them, and the road wound between trees.

"I've been talking to Madame Moretta," Snape said. "She thinks you're ready to start field training. Ironically, in an actual field."

"I'm going to train in a field?" Harry repeated. "What if someone sees me?"

"It's charmed," Snape replied. "This will help you to use your reflects and skills that we've been working on."

"Am I going to fight a Death Eater?"

"No," Snape walked up to a tree and tapped it with his wand. The trees along the side of the road began to fade. "You're fighting a dragon."

"I've already done that, Dad," Harry replied before he could think.

"Yes," Snape stepped into a wide field, the trees completely gone, "but now you'll be fighting three dragons."

Harry following his father's gaze and at the edge of the field, his eyes widened at sight of three dragons – a Hungarian horntail, a Norwegian ridgeback, and a Peruvian vipertooth.


	17. Dragons

AN: I know I have not updated in weeks, but I promise I am still writing. Teaching two classes is killing me – how am I supposed to remember the names of 45 students? And grad all the papers?

Disclaimer: I really don't own this, any of it.

--

"Three dragons!" Harry shouted. "Are you mad? One nearly killed me. How am I going to fight three?"

"The rules are a bit complicated," Snape began calmly. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and turned him towards the roaring dragons.

Harry could see the heavy chains around the monsters' necks, keeping them tethered. Moretta, that old hag Harry thought spitefully, stood in front of them, out of reach, with her wand posed for action.

"Make her leave," Harry groused, but Snape kept talking.

"You will find a way to corral the three dragons into three separate cages. You make sure they cannot leave and that will complete this test."

"Cages?" Harry whipped his head side to side. "I don't see any cages."

"You will construct cages or rather transform cages to capture the beasts," Snape explained as if he were discussing instruction to making a simple potion.

"Out of what?" Harry kept pushing down his panic, refusing to do what he wanted: freak out and grab Snape for protection. He knew the man would not let him die, but Harry couldn't resist adding, "And you said if I get hurt and end up in the hospital again, you'll – you know."

Snape looked down at him. "Believe me, Harry, that warning still stands."

"So if I get hurt doing a test that you designed, I still get punished?" Harry was outraged. "That's completely unfair."

"Indeed it is," Snape nodded. "I advise you not to get hurt. Ready –"

"This has to be the most unsafe thing you've ever made me do," Harry declared.

"Get set –"

"I'm going to die and then you'll be sorry!"

Snape reached out to smack him on the shoulder. "Enough of your lip. Go!"

Moretta stretched her arm up, and the chains disappeared from the dragons. Instead of going to eat her, the dragons rushed forward towards Harry, snarling and blasting fire, their sharp teeth wet in the flames.

Harry glanced back to Snape for advice, but the man had disappeared.

"No, you leave me?" Harry cried. "Never near when you want him, but when you don't, he's right – whoa!" he jumped back to avoid a stream of fire.

And then he started running. He was sure he would never outrun the monsters, but weeks of training had hardened his muscles and improved his speed. The ground shook as he dashed across the field, three dragons in pursuit. Harry wasn't sure how long he could keep ahead, and suddenly he felt fire lick his hair.

Shouting, he slapped at his head to make sure he was not on fire, but his speed slowed down considerably. In a split second, he spun on his heel and ran towards the dragons. The change surprised the dragon in front, the horntail, and Harry used the surprise to dash under the dragon and shoot blasts of energy up at its tender belly.

The horntail roared and fell to the side; Harry rolled out of the way just in time to keep from getting crushed by the huge beast. The vipertooth tripped over the fallen body, but the ridgeback flew up and over both dragons to charge for Harry.

He had nothing to arm himself, not even his broom. Trust Snape to make everything difficult for him. Harry pushed his frustration with his father aside and concentrated on thinking how to kill the brutes. He ran to a huge pile of logs, each log perhaps ten feet in length, and Harry considered flinging the logs at the dragons with magic, but he decided to keep running.

_Avada Kadavra_ came to mind, but Harry guessed that Unforgivable Curses should not be used on animals as well as humans. Besides Snape would not like Unforgivables. Harry could already see the man's face as he demanded to know how Harry could speak those awful words.

"I'll do it the hard way then," Harry hissed.

He ran hard for twenty steps and whirled around, shouting, "_Severus corpus_!"

A bolt of red light streaked out of the wand at the ridgeback. Its tail dropped off, and Harry watched green blood spurt from the severed tail and the back of dragon's body. But then suddenly the tail began to grow from the oozing wound, shooting out until the dragon had a full tail again.

That confirmed Harry's suspicions – the dragons were not real, just a part of the magical test that Snape had created. Harry felt a twinge of resentment at being made to run for his life when it was all just another part of the stupid training. He was going to kill them all, no doubt about it. That was probably the tricky thing about dragons – if you wanted to keep them alive, you had nothing but trouble. But if you wanted to kill them, it was all a matter of fast moving and shouting out the right curses.

The dragon stepped forward and its claw caught the back of Harry's hoodie. He flung off the knit jacket as quickly as possible and kept moving.

The next few minutes were a blur to Harry. He ran so hard his chest ached, he shouted spells and got splattered with dragon blood. He felt sorry when he killed the ridgeback, cast a spell that ripped out its throat and made its heart explode, but he kept telling himself none of it was real, just a test.

The vipertooth proved a more difficult target. The beast lunged forward at Harry, and though he stumbled back, its sharp teeth caught his sleeve and ripped the whole sleeve from the shoulder. The air might have felt cool and damp to Harry's bared arm, but again he moved too fast to feel anything.

He hit the vipertooth with spell after spell, but they bounced off the dragon's tough skin. Desperate and winded, Harry finally cast a blinding spell at the dragon's eyes. He knew the spell landed and landed hard because the beast gave a roar of rage and started swiping and biting at nothing.

"Ha!" Harry jeered. "Not so fierce without your sight. Take that."

He sent an exploding spell at the head, and bits of brain, scales, and bones rained down on his head.

The field looked grim and gruesome with the two slain dragons sprawled across it, but Harry turned his attention to the horntail that had recovered from the early spell and fall and now was charging for the last living thing on the field, Harry.

Harry dashed back to the pile of logs. He fought a short stick, about three feet long, and he transformed it into a sword. Wand in one hard, sword in the other, he turned to face the hurling monster.

"No, you don't!" he yelled at the monster. "I'm the hero here. I win. End of story."

With all the strength he could muster, Harry raised his wand and sent the strongest stunning spell he had ever produced coursing out towards the dragon. The horntail flopped forward on the brown grass, and Harry pocketed his wand before grabbing the sword with both hands.

With a cry of rage and angry, he thrust the sword into the side of the horntail's neck. The sword sank in to the hilt, and Harry held it tight as the horntail raised its head in pain. Harry felt himself airborne for a few seconds, but his weight on the handle of the sword caused the blade to rip down and tear the dragon's throat in half.

Though the dragons were fake, Harry hoped that cutting the dragon's head off would kill it even if cutting its tail off did not. The horntail kept thrashing its half-severed head back and forth, spewing blood everywhere. Harry was soaked with the blood, but even worse his glasses were so coated he could not see anything. He gripped the slick handle of the sword and yanked his glasses off. A dark blur thrashed in front of him, but finally the dragon began to topple.

Harry saw the dark blur coming at him, a huge shapeless mountain of dying dragon. With a hoarse cry, he turned and ran. But the falling dragon caught him, pinning him under its huge head.

For a minute, Harry thought he would be smothered to death. The dragon's head crushed him, and he could feel a row of sharp teeth pressing against his ankle. Harry reached out with both hands and grabbed for handful of grass. The brown grass broke in his hand on the first pull, but he dug his fingers into the cold ground, desperate to get a hold.

He dug so hard his hands ached, but when he pulled, his body slid out from under the dragon a few inches. Twisting back and forth, he wormed his way out, clawing the ground until he lay exhausted beside a dead dragon under the gray sky

Then the dragon disappeared from his side. Harry grinned wearily and pulled out his wand. "Accio glasses."

His sticky glasses flew to his hand and Harry cast a cleansing spell over them before putting them on. His world came back into crystal-clear clarity, and he saw Moretta at the edge of the field, frowning at him.

Harry scowled at her, but then a movement caught his eye. Before he could react, Snape grabbed him by the arm and whirled him around.

"You wretched boy," Snape bellowed. "Disobedient, reckless, arrogant – hand me that switch right now so I can make good use of it."

Harry glanced down to see the sword that had turned back into a stick. He raised wide green eyes to Snape. "What did I do? I fought the dragons, and I won."

"You killed them!" Snape looked wild with fury. "I said to put them into cages, not slay them."

"They were going to kill me," Harry retorted. "What was I supposed to make cages out of?"

"The logs! You were supposed to make them into cages. Or use the smaller sticks to construct a small cage and enlarge it. Not kill them."

"I survived without a scratch – shouldn't you be glad for that?" Harry's frustration began to show.

Snape looked down. Harry followed the man's gaze and winced when he saw his own trousers. Both trouser legs were coated with dragon blood, but the right leg had a tear in the fabric. And through that tear, dark red blood was mixing with the green. He must have cut his leg on the teeth when he pulled free.

"It's doesn't hurt," Harry said tentatively. He was lying a little for as he spoke his right leg began to ache. He read the stern look in Snape's eyes that boded no good, and Harry hastily added, "It was my first time. I haven't fought a dragon in two years, and you throw three at me at once. It's not fair and I wasn't ready and I really tried, but I was focused on survival, not-not –"

"Not what you were told to do?" Snape raised one eyebrow, and Harry felt his stomach sink.

"I still survived," Harry muttered. He wanted to claim that his survival was the most important thing, but he already knew Snape would reply that the most important thing was following his father's instructions. Arguments got Harry nowhere with the man, except into more trouble.

"Stop that," Snape ordered. "I can see what you're thinking, clear as day. Learn to hide your feelings."

"What are you going to do with him?" Moretta asked, appearing beside them suddenly, her eyes open and direct.

Harry wanted to shout "Not your concern, hag!" but he knew how Snape would feel about his disrespect to teachers.

"Take him back for a bath," Snape said with a sigh.

"You think he will learn that way?" Moretta asked in the same unfeeling voice.

"Do not criticize my teaching methods," Snape's voice had a cold edge, his eyes hard as flint. "Or my parenting skills."

He grabbed Harry's upper arm, and Harry flinched at the tight hold.

"We're going home, and I'll be grateful to you for cleaning up this training session," Snape was polite but firm.

Moretta gave the smallest of nod, and Snape headed back towards the road, Harry in tow.

"Let go – I can walk on my own," Harry jerked back. Snape was holding his still-attached sleeve, and Harry wondered if he would pull that sleeve off as well with his iron grip.

"Look at your clothes," Snape scowled, not letting go. "I just bought you new clothes, and you ruined them."

"Next time I'm going to fight dragons, I be sure to wear my old clothes. Oh, that's right – I didn't know I was going to fight dragons."

"You need to be ready for anything."

"You want me to wear my old clothes all the time?"

"Stop being so blasted cheeky," Snape ordered.

Harry growled, but said nothing.

The journey back to Hogwarts was rough. Harry felt cold without the hoodie and missing a sleeve, and all the blood turned icy in the wind. Harry's leg ached, and he wished Snape would Apparate them back to the gates of Hogwarts. But he guessed that Snape didn't want to hold him close and get blood all over his dark robes.

"Hear," Snape stopped by the stump of a huge oak tree. In the middle of the stump sat a metal bucket. "Portkey."

Harry felt reluctantly to touch the portkey; he was wary of the things ever since the night in the maze with Cedric. But Snape waited impatiently, and Harry reached out to grab the blasted bucket.

A sickening jerk and Harry found himself sprawling on the cold floor of the dungeon. He had just pushed himself to his hands and knees when Snape popped in, the man landing on his feet.

"I hate those things," Harry complained as he stood.

"I wouldn't use them except – Harry! Look what a mess you made on my floor."

Harry felt too tired to protest; he gave an exhausted shrug and scuffed his shoe against the floor, swiping at the smear of green and red blood.

"You're impossible," Snape said before casting a cleaning spell on Harry.

The blood disappeared immediately, but he still felt chilled to the bone. He tucked his hands under his arms, hugging himself and trying not to let his teeth chatter.

"Sit down," Snape indicated a wooden chair. "I want a look at that leg."

Harry sat and tugged up his torn trouser leg, revealing a long gash along his leg that still bled.

"Potion?" Harry asked wearily, already bracing himself against the nasty taste.

Snape sniffed disdainfully and cast a healing charm over Harry's leg. The wound healed instantly, and the ache disappeared.

"Hooray, no potion," Harry sighed as he relaxed in the chair.

"There will always be potions," Snape threatened. "I don't want you getting spoiled."

"Ha," Harry snorted, "as if you could ever spoil me."

He was fairly certain he was not in trouble for killing the dragons, but with Snape, he could never be too sure.

Snape smirked with satisfaction, but then he pointed to his bedroom door. "Go, take a bath to warm yourself."

"Too tired," Harry muttered, hugging his arms to his chest even tighter.

"Go take a bath or I'll make you shower in the middle of the Great Hall," Snape warned.

Harry did not believe him, but he pushed himself to his feet anyway and staggered into the bathroom. He did not hear Snape cast the spell, but a tub of hot water was waiting in the bathroom when he opened the door.

Harry stripped off his raggedy clothes and eased into the water. He was afraid the water might scale his cold limbs, but the water felt just warm enough to his body. He leaned back against the tub, and gradually his eyes drifted shut. Harry felt the water begin to warm as he adjusted to the temperature.

He wanted food, too, but he could not imagine ever getting out of the tub. If everyone, meaning Snape, could just leave him alone for the rest of his life, Harry thought he would be fairly content.

A scraping sound caused him to open one eye a crack. A bathbrush, soap, and a rag were moving towards the tub. Harry had not forgotten the morning wash spell from Snapdragon Manor, and he sat up in the tub with a splash.

"Huh-uh, no, you're scrubbing me. Come on, Dad, I've only been in here a minute."

"You'll fall asleep in there," Snape called through the door.

"So I never get a moment's peace?" Harry retorted. "I just fought three dragons."

"Ten minutes," Snape conceded.

The brush, soap, and rag drifted back from the tub. Harry settled back in the water, but of course he could not relax completely now. He kept one eye open for any movement from the objects, and finally he sat up in the tub and started washing himself.

A warm shirt and trouser were folded on a chair, and Harry put them on after drying off. He was pulling on a pair of thick socks when the bathbrush twitched. With only one sock on, Harry dashed for the door.

Snape sat at his desk, grading papers. "That was quick."

"Ha-ha," Harry shot back. He flopped down on the sofa, pulling his leg up to put on the other sock. He meant to get up and leave before Snape could start lecturing, but Harry stretched out on the sofa for just a second. He could hear the ticking of the clock and Snape's pen scratching on paper.

"You should go lie down for a proper nap," Snape told him.

"I'm not napping," Harry replied crossly, not opening his eyes. "I'm resting for a bit."

Snape made no comment, just kept writing. He finished one essay, not pleased at all with the student's abysmal writing skills (spelled 'potion' _poshun_ and 'caldron' _caltrone_), and start on the next when he heard the boy start to breathe deeply.

Snape opened his mouth to tell Harry that he was indeed napping, but instead Snape stood up. He took the quilt from one armchair and approached the sofa.

Harry lay on his back, his arms twisted at odd angles and one leg bent awkwardly. Snape put a gentle hand on his shoulder and began to roll him forward, tucking a sofa pillow under his head once he got the boy on his side.

"Stop babying me," Harry mumbled, but his eyes stayed shut as he snuggled into the pillow and pulled his hands under his chin.

Snape spread the quilt over him, resisting the urge to smack the boy for being such a bother. Oddly enough, Snape could think only of the beginning of the summer, when he forced Harry to take a nap by stunning him and then rolled him to his side and covered him up while Harry glared up at him, unable to move. Quite a different boy than the teenager slumbering on his sofa.

Snape stepped towards the door. He needed to see Dumbledore, to report on the afternoon and the progress Harry had made. But Snape felt reluctant to leave. After all, he told himself, the brat didn't stay quiet most of the time, preferring to mouth off and disrespect his father for a good portion of everyday. Shouldn't Snape enjoy the peace when he had it?

Snape settled back down at his desk to grade a few more papers and plan the next week's lesson. Quickly, he cast a silencing charm around the room. That way, no one in the hall could be loud and wake Harry. And since Snape felt ready to strangle anyone who would wake his sleeping boy, the silencing spell protected several students in the hall who clamored past, wondering loudly to each other where their Potions Master had been all Saturday.


	18. Sweets

AN: I finally got another chapter done. This semester just hung me out to dry. Thankfully, it's almost over. In the Spring I'm only teaching one class I should be able to get a bit more done.

Thank you all for reading and continuing to review this little story.

------

The closer Halloween got, the more excited Harry became. He had always enjoyed the feast and the decoration, but this year he felt especially excited because it would be his first chance in months to have as much candy and sweets as he wanted, all at one time.

Snape had been particularly rigid about his sugar intake, more than Harry thought anyone should ever be interested in how much sugar someone else ate. At the table in the Great Hall, desserts appeared at the end of the meal of supper or lunch on most days, but not too sweet or decadent. Yet, Snape frowned from the teachers' table if Harry took more than two, and after a student trip to Hogsmeade, Snape made him turn out his pockets.

In the cold dungeon, Harry had emptied his trousers pockets, placing one piece of candy on Snape's desk until the pockets were emptied.

"Happy?" he had growled at Snape.

"Hardly," the man had retorted. "Coat pockets, too."

Harry had slammed more handfuls candy down on the table.

"And underneath your sweater," Snape had continued.

The candy pile had been rather impressive after Harry had given up his every last sweet and stood glowering at his father.

"I bought the candy – you can't take it all away from me!"

Snape had let him keep a few pieces and doled out a little bit everyday, making the candy that Harry would have devoured in an afternoon last two weeks.

Worst of all, Harry found himself hungry all the time as the fall term continued. He ate two plates of everything at each meal and found himself wanting food in the late afternoon and evenings. Saturday nights he usually spent in Snape's quarters, and after watching Harry drink three cups of tea and chomp right through four biscuits, Snape decided he was starting a growth spurt.

"Good," Harry said, tipping his tea cup to get the last bit at the bottom. "Maybe I'll be as tall as you. Do we have anything else to eat? I'm famished after training."

"I'll start making you health potions," Snape replied.

Harry made a face, but the next evening when Snape handed him a mug of creamy-colored brew, he began gulping it down. Rather than the usually nasty taste, this potion was rich, sweet, and vanilla – a mix between pudding and thick cream that he could drink. Harry downed it gratefully and finally felt full.

Snape began giving him one everyday, and the flavors varied from vanilla to chocolate, caramel, and (his favorite) peppermint. Harry was not sure whether the potions actually tasted good or were just charmed for the various flavors and colors, and he really did not want to know what Snape put in the potions, so Harry kept taking them.

However, for the Halloween feast, Harry planned to go all out. For one night, he would stuff down as much candy as possible, and Snape could glare as much as he liked.

"I'll skip supper altogether," Harry decided as he reached for his pajamas in the dim light of Snape's quarters. "In fact, no food all day – just the feast."

Usually Harry got changed and into bed (the transformed sofa) which Snape charmed to be warm when he got into it. But Harry stopped short of pulling his shirt on and stood in front of the long mirror in just his pajama bottoms, looking at his bare chest.

He held his arms out to the side and then brought them down, clenching his hands in fists. He couldn't help half-grinning at the muscles on his arms. Six weeks of training, and he was starting to show the change. His chest and stomach, before pitifully thin with visible ribs, had hardened and filled out with muscles. His shoulders looked wider, and his arms now were tightening with muscle rather than looking so sticklike.

Harry turned to the side and brought his arms down again. Not bad, not bad at all. For a moment, he felt ridiculously proud of how good he was starting to look, especially with the dark hair that brushed over his low stomach and disappeared under his pajama bottoms. He looked awesome.

"Huh!" Harry tightened his arms, making the muscles bulge. "That's right, girls, Potter's here to save you."

"Are you quite done?" Snape asked from the doorway.

Harry glanced back to see Snape leaning against the doorpost, shaking his head slowly at Harry's antics.

"You're just jealous I look so good," Harry let his words sound as arrogant as possible, and he ran his fingers through his hair to give himself a careless, rakish look.

Snape yanked out his wand and shouted, "_Rictusempra_!"

Immediately, Harry felt like dozens of cold fingers were running up and down his bare torso, brushing lightly over his skin and then digging into every sensitive spot between his ribs.

With a shriek, he fell to the floor, clutching his hands to his chest as he twisted on the floor and howled. The ticking was unbearable, and he wailed, "Oh, stop! I can't take it. No, no, no, make it stop."

Snape calmly stepped past him while Harry continued his hysterics, beating the stone floor with one hand in attempt to keep himself from going mad at the horrid tickling. A million years later (or maybe twenty seconds) Snape ended the spell.

Harry flopped loosely on his back, wheezing as he stared up with tearing eyes. "Bastard," he said in a low voice though he couldn't help giggling a little. Trust Snape to devise such a fiendish rebuttal.

"I'm sorry," Snape settled down in his armchair and looked at the teenager still on the floor, "did you ask for a second go? Ah, Harry, never satisfied with just one taste. Well, anything for you."

Snape pointed his wand, and Harry scrambled to his feet.

"No, no, don't! I can't take that spell. It should be one of the Unforgivable Curses," Harry grabbed his pajama top and pulled it on, just in case Snape should chance another hit at his bare skin.

"I believe it was created to brighten up glum little children," Snape rolled his wand between his fingers before tucking it away.

"As a threat to make them cheer up?" Harry said doubtfully as he sat on his bed. The covers below felt warm and cozy, and he pulled his bare feet under him to get warm.

"Possibly," Snape shrugged. "Well, I'll let you get to sleep."

He made a motion to get up, and Harry protested,

"No, I'm not tired yet. What are we doing tomorrow?"

"I'm grading essays. I have no idea what you are doing, but if you want to stay here, it has to be something quiet."

"I'm ready for Halloween," Harry said, wondering how long he could keep Snape in the room, talking. It was after midnight, but Harry found that if he could distract the man long enough, Snape would stay and talk to him for a while until Harry was yawning his head off, and then Snape blew out the candles and went to his own room.

"Halloween?" Snape leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the worn footstool. "No candy for you."

"You must be joking," Harry observed, almost scornfully. "You can't stop me from eating at the feast."

"No, but I could give you a potion before you go that would make you unable to look at the sweets, much less taste them."

"Now, you're just being cruel."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement, then conceded, "Fine, but I don't want to hear any complaining the next morning."

"Why don't you enjoy the feast for once?" Harry asked. "Or at least let me bring you back something good?"

"I won't be there," Snape replied. "I have an errand I have to run."

"On Halloween?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, and I can't say anymore about it so please do not ask."

"I'll save you some candy then," Harry tucked his feet under even tighter.

"That's all?" Snape looked amazed. "No tantrum, no demanding to know where I'm going, no blowing up my quarters?"

"I've changed, too," Harry felt rather smug. "I know you won't tell me and I don't want to get in trouble so just tell me you'll be back safely.

"I'll be back safely," Snap assured him.

"If you don't, I come looking for you and I'll bring the whole DA with me," Harry threatened.

Snape smiled for a moment.

------

The feast itself was incredible as always, the house elves trying to do better than last year. Every kind of dessert, sweet, and goodie Harry could imagine was heaped in piles on the table. He was ravenous after his daylong fast. Well, he had eaten a small muffin for lunch and drank a cup or two of water, but he felt as if he had not eaten in weeks as he sat down to the table.

Ron was already there with Hermione, and they were whispering about something as Harry took his seat. He was about to ask them what they were discussing, but then Dumbledore stood up and made his speech. The food appeared, and Harry forgot about everything except his hunger.

It was probably a good thing that Snape was not there to see him make a complete pig of himself as Harry ignored table etiquette and basic human manners in his attempt to grab all the food he could.

"Slow down," Hermione admonished, but Harry paid her no mind.

He could not remember exactly all he ate, but he felt certain Snape would be planning strict lessons in restraint and manners had he been there to see Harry's gorging.

An hour later, Harry's ears were ringing slightly from all the sugar as he stood up and stumbled towards the door, his hands clutching the last bits of treats.

"What was that?" Hermione demanded, falling into stride beside him. "You're never acted like that before."

"Last time I'll see sweets until Christmas," Harry muttered. He made it as far as the stairs and fell on the second one to consume the last of his candy and iced cupcake. "Snape has a thing about no sugar. He made me give him everything from Hogsmeade."

"Blmey," Ron shook his head. "Rather unfair, that one. Mum's the only who cares about what we eat, and she knows it's a losing battle since we just sneak goodies when she's not looking."

"He just wants you to be healthy and not rot your teeth out," Hermione reproved with a side glance at Ron. "My parents insist I take good care of my teeth so I try to limit my sugar intact."

"Didn't you get your teeth shrunk a year ago or so?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Hermione tightened her mouth prissily, and Ron defended her,

"She can shrink her teeth all she likes."

"Sure she can," Harry agreed as he leaned back and put his elbows on the step behind him. "Talk to me so I don't fall asleep after all that. What we you talking about during the feast?"

"Oh, about the holidays," Hermione said eagerly, suddenly excited. "We're all going home for Christmas since you finally have – you know . . ."

"Someone to spend it with?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Right," Ron nodded even though Hermione's cheeks pinked for a second.

"Well, you do now, and we thought you would want to spend time with him," Hermione chose her words very carefully. "But Ron and I were thinking we could persuade our parents to let us spend New Years in Diagon Alley together. They're going to have fireworks and specials on everything and everyone's coming. We though we could meet there on the 29th or 30th, all share rooms, and spend the New Years together in London!"

It was the most brilliant idea Harry had ever heard, and even stuffed with more sugar than one teenage wizard should be able to handle, he wanted to go more than he had wanted to do anything in long time.

"She wants to ask Draco and Worty if they can come, too," Ron frowned, but he did not look too upset. "Why it can't be just the three of us – but no, we have to have the Slytherins along, too."

"We were going to ask Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, and your brothers as well," Hermione shot back.

"Still," Ron refused to give up, "it's Draco. Well, anyway, what say you, Harry? Ready for a wild New Years with your mates?"

"Absolutely," Harry grinned broadly. "It will be smashing. I'm definitely in."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Snape?"

"Oh, he'll be fine with it."

Hermione glanced at Ron and then reminded Harry, "Well, really, we all have to go get permission. We can't stay in Diagon Alley at the inn without some kind of parental supervision because we're all still underage."

"I'm not asking Snape to chaperon," Harry decided. "No way he'll ever –"

"No, my parents will probably chaperon," Ron said ruefully. "I think we could get on all right, but she," a traitorous look at Hermione, "says we have to have a 'grown-up'!"

"We do," Hermione insisted. "But Harry, you have to ask Snape before we start making plans. Otherwise, we can't get a final count for beds and rooms and that sort of stuff."

"He'll be fine," Harry assured her, but even as he said the words, doubt began to crowd his mind. Somehow he managed to get off the steps and waddle away, thinking next year he might try easing off the sugar a bit.

He spent the night in Snape's quarters, hoping they could talk when Snape got back, but when the man had not appeared by one, Harry gave up and went to sleep. He felt mildly worried that Snape was in danger, but Harry forced himself to close his eyes and stop worrying. Snape could take care of himself, and Harry wanted him in a good mood for the next morning.

-------

"It's not fair," Harry said flatly. "Not at all fair."

No reply.

"You're just doing this to make me miserable," he shot the words out, waiting for a reaction.

Again no reply.

"I'll run away," he threatened. "You'll never see me again."

Snape made no reply, just turned the page of the book with a serenity that made Harry twice as upset.

"I'll break something," he growled. "I'll break all your potions and blow up the whole dungeons."

"You may rail as long as you like," Snape said calmly. "You are not going."

"Why not?" Harry tried not to whine, but he wanted to stomp his foot and throw himself into a rage.

"You are not going to London for Christmas," Snape told him flatly.

"But Ron and Hermione are going to spend New Years in Diagon Alley with their families," Harry kept complaining. "They're going to have fireworks and the twins have planned something incredible."

"Which is precisely why you are not going," Snape continued. "I am not running the risk of taking you there to run wild over the holidays and find some kind of trouble or bodily harm or dark plot to thwart. We're going back to the Manor and have a quiet, warm, safe holiday, just the two of us."

Harry snarled and stomped a few paces away only to whirl back. "I'm sixteen. That's old enough for me to go with my friends. No one else is as protective as you are with me."

"I know," Snape looked back at his book. "No need to thank me – I'll always be as protective of you as I can."

"I'm not a baby," Harry insisted. "You don't have to hold my hand and hide me away in a manor. I can take care of myself. You just want me miserable."

"Harry," Snape said his name quietly, but his look implied that one young Mr. Potter best watch himself.

"Snape, please," Harry tried one last time. "They asked me. What am I going to tell Ron and Hermione? Even Draco and Worty might show up. Draco's even going to sneak out to come New Years Eve. I can't stay at the Manor."

"We could go to Diagon Alley together and see the fireworks," Snape decided. "You'll stay near me and we'll leave the moment they're done. You'll be in disguise, of course."

"Ugh!" Harry growled, contorting his face. "If you don't let me go, I'll sneak out, too."

Snape glanced up at him, and Harry had the decency to look ashamed.

"Then next year," he amended, "when I'm of age, I go stark mad and bust up half of London with my friends."

"Very well, if you must do that next year, I'll not stand in your way. And when the Ministry comes to collect you and lock you up for such disturbing behavior, I may or may not come to bail you out. But for this year, you're not going."

It was so beastly unfair – Harry bristled, as he racked his brain for some scheme or threat that would get Snape to let him go. He thought about throwing a tantrum or breaking things, maybe blowing up a few walls here in the dungeon, but Harry knew that would only get him put on restriction or spanked or given detention, not given permission to go for New Years.

Snape got the final word in, Harry knew that. He knew Snape made the last decision because he was the adult.

"Last year I could have gone," he muttered.

"Last year," Snape replied without looking up from the book, "you could have run drunk and stark naked through Diagon Alley and they would have made excuses for you. This year, I'm responsible for you, and I say you're going to stay right where I can see you."

"And there's nothing I can do to get you to change your mind?"

Snape hesitated and then glanced up. "If you are very, very good over the holidays, and don't give me any cheek or lip, I'll consider letting you go with your friends somewhere during the first few weeks of summer holidays."

"But I'll be of age then," Harry objected.

"But not quite," Snape pointed out. "But bad behavior over the holidays and excessive backtalk will only get you detention in the New Year. Your decision, young man."

Harry snarled something unpleasant under his breath and stormed towards the door. He wanted to the slam the door behind him, but after the summer, Harry knew better than to ever slam a door within twenty miles of Snape. He clicked it shut with just enough emphasis to let Snape know he was not happy, but not loud enough for Snape to come after him.

Hermione and Ron were in the library, very close together over a book. Ron was leaned towards her, and she seemed drawn to him, a pleased smile on her lips as she listened to him. Then she saw Harry and pulled back instinctively.

Harry wanted to tell them that he knew about them and that the jig was up. But still too upset about Snape, Harry flung himself in the chair across from them.

"I can't go," he snapped the words out.

"Snape said no?" Hermione pressed her lips together sympathetically.

"Yeah, he said no," Harry scowled, crossing his arms and hugging them tight to his chest.

"Sorry, mate," Ron shrugged. "I didn't think you could. Snape being Snape, you know. But it was worth a shot."

"Yeah," Harry snarled. He watched his best friends looking all sorry for him, and then Harry decided he had had enough.

"I'll see you later," he pulled out of the chair. "I'll let you get back to snogging."

"Harry!" Hermione protested, but Ron said,

"You know? About us? Well, that was easy. C'mere, 'Mione, and do as he says."

"Ronald," Hermione's cheeks were quite pink. "We're in public."

The library was mostly empty so Harry saw no need to protect her modesty. "Shut up and kiss him," he ordered shortly before walking away. A part of him hoped that they would follow him and pull him back, maybe Hermione even having to coax him out his short temper, but no one came after him. Harry reached the end of the hall and started towards the stairs when he finally accepted that they were not coming for him at all.

Some friends they were. Harry felt his annoyance growing even stronger. He felt an overwhelming desire to go find Draco and start a fight. They were evenly matched so it would be a fair fight. Harry wondered what Draco would do if Harry jumped him from around a corner and started pounding him mercilessly. Maybe Harry could threaten to beat someone up everyday until Snape agreed to let him go at Christmas.

Harry started down the stairs, ready to find Draco and do some damage when he felt a small hand on his arm.

He looked up to see Luna beside him.

"Oh, hey," he said gruffly.

"Don't," Luna advised.

"What?" Harry blinked.

"Don't," she said softly. "Come for a walk with me and don't do whatever you were planning."

"You don't know what I was planning," Harry stammered.

"No, but anyone looking so cross should be stopped," Luna explained.

Harry frowned. Snape was right – his thoughts must be apparent on his face for everyone to see. Snape was right again and that annoyed Harry even more.

"Let me be," he told Luna. "I'm going to beat a Slytherin and for good reason."

"Come talk with me," Luna took his arm. "We will walk outside and you will explain why you are mad."

Her grip felt weak on his arm, and Harry had no doubt he could push her off and storm off, but they were on stairs, and just because he wanted to batter Draco to pieces did not mean he should be short with Luna. Besides Snape would have a fit if he knew Harry pushed off a girl on the stairs.

"Fine," Harry huffed.

The air outside was cold, but Harry refused to go back for his coat, and Luna did not seem to mind the chilly air as she clung to him. Despite her usual meandering and odd way of talking, Luna was a good listener and Harry soon found himself going to great lengths to explain why he felt so upset. Harry was right in the middle of a rant against Snape when he wondered if Luna knew Snape had adopted him and should it have been kept a secret, but then Harry did not care and kept going.

"It's not just New Years either. All the time, he treats me like a child. He tells me what to eat, what to wear, what to say, where to go, everything! He's always telling me to go to bed or scolding me about how I act. And don't get me started about school. I have to study and read and pay attention, even on the weekends. It's like I'm three, and he's my nanny, following my every move. It's not fair. I'm sixteen. I should be allowed to do normal things sixteen-year-olds do."

"It's frustrating," Luna agreed. "We wish we could have it both ways."

"Both ways?"

"Yes, with parents. When we have parents, we resent them for telling us what to do. When we don't have parents, we wish we did and we say we would do anything if they were with us again."

"Like your mother," Harry noted.

"Like my mother," Luna nodded. "She used to make me wear the most boring clothes and wanted me to tidy my room, and I hated that. Then she died, and I wanted her to tell me one more time to make my socks match or pick up my jumper."

Harry felt an ache inside his throat at the way she looked.

"You'd feel the same way," Luna glanced up at him. "If Snape were not here. You'd wish you could see him one last time and hear him tell you not to eat so many sweets or wash your hair or study your lessons."

Harry did not have anything to say. He had never really considered his life without Snape. It would be different than his life before Snape because Harry had gotten used to Snape, used to having the man around and putting up with his endless rules and lecturing and concern over silly things and also really important things. But for Snape to not be there . . . Harry did not like the idea, and he hurried to say,

"I guess he isn't that bad. But London at New Years – I should be allowed that. Everyone will be going."

"I won't," Luna was quite simple.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you can come, of course. You're always invited."

"But my father won't want me away for New Years. He worries about me, just like Snape does about you. Isn't it funny how fathers worry so much?"

After that, there wasn't much to say. Luna turned to the right and started down the rocky hill towards Hagrid's hut for a long hike, and Harry went with her. Above them dark clouds were gathering, ominous and heavy.

They had almost reached the bottom when Harry heard a breaking sound. He whirled to look behind him and far behind the castle, at the edge of the woods, Harry saw someone in robes disappear into the darkness of trees.

The sky grew dim, and the air was freezing. Harry hurried with Luna into the warmth of Hagrid's hut. They had just reached the door and been welcomed in by Hagrid when the first snowflakes began to fall.

In the middle of Hagrid's garden, a crow cawed, the sound harsh in the empty air.


	19. Dizzy

"No tea," Luna said as she perched on Hagrid's huge footstool. "I just ate."

"I see," Hagrid said. "Well, at least Harry can always use a cuppa."

"What?" Harry stood in the middle of the dim room, wondering if he could make a run for the door. "Oh, no tea."

"Nonsense," Hagrid shook his great head. "Just want a growing boy needs."

With one great hand, he pushed Harry back into the enormous armchair before hiking to the table to prepare tea.

"If I'm having tea, you have to, too," Harry hissed at Luna. "We haven't had lunch yet so you didn't just eat."

She smiled serenely. "I suppose I could have a small cup."

Hagrid got them cup of blackish tea, and Harry held it gingerly, unsure whether to look inside or just plug his nose up and start gulping it down.

Luna took a sip. The calm expression on her face did not change as she said, "Thank you, Hagrid. It's delicious."

Irritated, Harry said, "Hagird, I want to go to Diagon Alley over New Years, but Snape says no. What do you say?"

Hagrid frowned at the bowl of cubed sugar with a large spoon sticking out. He picked up the spoon handle, and the sugar and bowl came along with it, the whole thing sticking together. "Don't see that my opinion is much good here, but I think I'd agree with Snape."

"Big surprise there," Harry grumbled.

"Ah, we know what's good for you. Let me get you some sugar to sweeten your tea," Hagrid began beating at the sugar bowl with one end of his rolling pin. The sugar began breaking off in chunks, but so did the bowl.

Harry did not see how bits of broken pottery in his tea would be good for him, but he couldn't say that or he would hurt Hagrid's feelings.

"Besides Professor Snape only wants to keep you safe," Hagrid continued. "He's been a mite worried about you lately."

"He's always worried about something," Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't do anything these days without him pitching into me."

"No, we've all been telling him he can't drag himself around, worrying himself nigh to death, always asking after you and fretting over you –"

"I'm not helpless," Harry objected. "I've fought Voldemort countless times and won."

"And always ended up in hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey bringing you back from the brink of death."

"That's a big exaggeration," Harry protested. "I might have been a bit rough up, but I wasn't ever on the brink of death. Well, maybe, once or twice . . ." Harry trailed off uncertainly and took a sip of tea. It was rather nasty, reminding him of the awful potions Snape's forced down his throats frequently.

Hagrid gave up on the sugar and took a seat by the fire. "How are classes going for the two of you?"

"I'm enjoying them," Luna said with a half smile. "But then I enjoy most of everything. Except liver. I don't like liver." She pulled her face up into grimace.

Harry grinned. She would drink the awful tea and not say a word, but she hated liver enough to make faces.

They stayed at Hagrid's for over an hour, relaxing, laughing, and drinking more tea that actually got better more the more they downed.

When they finally left, snow had covered the ground, turning the ugly brown ground and jagged rocky landscape into a winter-wonderland. Harry gazed out at the sparkling snow and let his breath out, a white puff of air appearing and disappearing.

"It's beautiful," Luna smiled.

"And cold," Harry smiled. "We got to get back and inside. At least you brought a jumper."

"Are you really only wearing a long-sleeved shirt?" Luna shook her head as they started hurrying up the snowy hillside. "It is November now."

"I know that," Harry groused.

"I think – whoa!" Luna flailed her arms out to catch her balance as she slipped on a slippery step.

Harry reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her steady.

"My," Luna looked him, "you are strong."

Harry wanted to say thanks and then tell her that he had been exercising and training lately, but instead he blushed. He stood there on the icy steps in the middle of all the snow, staring into Luna's bright eyes and blushing all red.

"We should go," Luna motioned towards the castle. "I may be wearing extra layers, but my hands are freezing."

They went up a few more steps and then Harry reached out to hold Luna's hand. "Don't want you to slip again," he said awkwardly.

Luna said nothing, but she tightened her small hand around Harry's.

By the time they reached the castle, Harry was freezing, but he felt warn inside as he kept holding Luna's hand. She said something about needing to go find a teacher, and Harry stood, unsure if he should say something or walk away or even give into his impulses and lean forward to kiss her.

She squeezed his hand tight and turned away.

Harry grinned like a maniac as he started down towards the dungeon. He was still grinning when he entered Snape's office.

"Back I see," Snape was sitting at his desk with a book. "Hope your little tantrum is over."

"What? Oh, sure," Harry said, not even remembering what they had fought about.

"You're shaking," Snape noted. "My word, your lips are blue. Were you outside without a coat?"

"Hmm? Yeah I guess," Harry went to stand by the fire. "It snowed, too."

Snape tightened his mouth into a straight line, furious, but then he shook his head. "No, no, I'm not going to say anything. You're sixteen now. That's old enough to remember your own coat."

"Good, then you don't have to say anything more," Harry replied.

He smiled inside at the expression on the man's face; he knew Snape could not resist telling him off when he did something wrong. To goad Snape further, Harry hugged his arms tight to his chest and shivered.

"Oooo, hope I don't catch pneumonia. I can't feel my fingers . . . or my toes . . . my lips are numb, too. My whole body's going numb." Harry coughed, completely fake, but he pushed the air of his lungs hard enough for it to sound like a deep hack. "I'm a little dizzy, too. But I'm warming up now – must be the fever. What's wrong, Dad? Still nothing to say?"

Snape had his teeth clenched together so hard Harry was sure he was in pain.

"Ah, well," Harry felt extra brave and snarky, "I guess I'll have to tell Madame Pomfrey that you let me run in the snow without a coat. In fact, I'm going to tell her that you make me train in the snow in only my shorts."

That apparently was the last straw as Snape threw down his book and stood, shoving his chair back. "Come here and I'll show you what I'll make you do."

"Ha!" Harry left the fire to run around the other side of the sofa. He wavered back and forth, watching Snape to see which way he would go.

"Stop playing around," Snape ordered.

"Stop chasing me," Harry retorted.

The next two minutes were spent with Harry running and ducking around the room while Snape chased him and hollered for him to stop fooling about.

When Snape finally caught him (Harry tripped over the corner of the rug or he could have kept the game up for longer), Snape pulled his ear which didn't hurt too much because it was still cold and numb. And then Snape sent him to stand by the fire to warm up for ten minutes before beginning a very long, very exhausting training session.

Harry would have objected, but he was too eager to have an outlet for all the feelings inside so he went along without complaint. He wasn't sure how he felt about Luna and he did not ever want to tell Snape about it because Snape would either rib him about it mercilessly or sit him down for a discussion about girls. Both outcomes were awful in Harry's opinion, and so he threw himself into his exercises with such energy that Snape told him to tone his enthusiasm down.

Later that night as he lay in bed in the boys' dorm, Harry stared up at the dark ceiling and thought about Luna. He thought about Hermione, about Cho, about Ginny, about Parvati and Padma, about Tonks, about all the girls he knew. He didn't understand the way he felt about any of them. Why? Why did life have to be so complicated?

Harry finally turned on his side and forced himself to fall asleep. And he found himself in a bizarre dream where he was trapped in the Great Hall wearing only his undershorts and the whole Hall was filled with girls who laughed and pointed and teased. He ran and ran but he could not escape those hundreds of girls.

------

Harry could hear his friends talking as he rounded the corner.

"So it's agreed," Hermione said. "We don't talk about New Years."

"Snape still might let him go," Draco objected.

"Get real, Malfoy," Ron retorted. "The only way Harry's going is if he sneaks out."

"No, Ron," Hermione said sharply. "You are not going to suggest it. All three of you, don't give Harry any such idea. And you better listen to me because I have dirt on all of you that I could use to get you in terrible trouble."

"You got nothing on me, Granger," Draco scoffed.

"What did I do wrong?" Worty asked timidly.

"Just don't give Harry any ideas," Hermione insisted.

Harry had stopped on the other side of the corner to listen, but he banged his shoes loudly on the stone to let them know he was coming.

"Hey," he said as he rounded the bend.

"Hi, we were just talking about Potions class," Hermione smiled, scooting over to make room for Harry. "Moretta was looking very strange today. She couldn't keep anything straight. She looked very nervous."

"Who cares about that hag?" Harry grumbled. "She's always poking around and messing things up."

"She's usually a very good teacher," Hermione said, but even she didn't sound convinced.

"Hermione's skeptical of a teacher," Ron observed. "This means that she's going to try to kill us all by the end of the year."

"Not all of us," Draco grinned. "Just Harry."

"Thanks a lot," Harry muttered.

Worty looked around, worried. "Why would she try to kill Harry?"

"Because sooner or later, the bad teachers try to get the hero of the wizarding world," Ron said.

"And when they don't get him, they go after other students," Draco said in a low, creepy voice, trying to scare Worty. "Every year, a student disappears by the end. And it's always a first year, usually from Slytherin because we have the best students. And they always go after the smallest and the weakest –"

"Knock it off," Harry ordered, shoving his shoulder into Draco.

"Don't push me," Draco pushed back just as hard.

That led to a shoving match in which Draco and Harry eventually ended up on the floor, trying to pin the other. Worty watched concerned, biting his lip, and Ron sighed with boredom.

"Boys, stop," Hermione ordered. When they ignored her, she took out her thick herbology book. "I mean it, stop right now or else."

"Not until I beat him," Harry grunted as he tried to hold Draco down.

"In your dreams," Draco panted.

"Oh!" frustrated, Hermione swatted Harry with her book right across the shoulders and then proceeded to give Draco a good thwack on the side of his hip.

"Ow! Hey, call your girl off," Draco ordered to Ron.

Ron had a goofy smile on his face as he realized that Hermione was indeed his girl.

A few more swats of the books, and Harry and Draco got up and sat down, slightly rumpled from their skirmish.

"Merlin, Potter," Draco frowned as he rubbed his arm, "when did you become such an ox?"

"Some of us train ourselves," Harry grinned. "Don't worry, Draco – you'll find some girl someday strong enough to protect both of you. Or a guy – either way you can keep your fine, delicate hands clean."

"That's it," Draco stood to rush at him again.

Hermione sighed and leaned against Ron. "Why are boys so stupid?" she sighed.

"Because there aren't enough women like you to civilize us," Ron said, kissing her cheek.

Obviously, Ron had learned a thing or two about talking to girls because Hermione shone with radiance and tucked herself tight against him, content to let Harry and Draco roll on the ground while she sat with her boyfriend. Worty, with no one to sit beside, jumped off his seat and landed on top of Harry and Draco, probably in hopes to stop the fight.

Rather than stopping fighting, they pulled him into the wrestling. There was lots of squirming and pushing until Harry got Worty slung over one shoulder and stood up. He began spinning around while Worty clung on dizzily and Draco laughed. When Harry finally set Worty down, the poor boy was so dizzy he couldn't even stand up straight.

"He's going to be sick," Hermione disapproved, but she had no intention of leaving Ron's side.

"He's got ten seconds to balance himself," Draco decided. "Then I'm taking him for a bit of a spin."

"No!" Worty squealed, but Draco had already thrown him over one shoulder and let him hang there squealing and begging to get down.

"A few turns," Harry permitted as he sat down.

"You boys are barbaric," Hermione shook her head prissily.

"I know," Harry replied. "Watch out, Draco – he looks like he's about to throw up. No? Well, spin him a few more times."

------

The next few weeks flew by with lots of tests and class work. Harry thought he could have gotten by all right with the work, but Snape sat him down on a Saturday early in December for a talk.

"About your marks," Snape began, very seriously.

"They're all right," Harry shrugged. "All the studying in the summer really paid off. Can I have a biscuit?"

"No, not right now. I've spoken to all your teachers about your class standing. They were very honest with me."

"Don't listen to Moretta," Harry insisted. "She has it out for me. Can I have some tea?"

"No, just listen. I'm getting all your tests back the moment your teachers are finished grading, which means I will get to see your marks before the holidays while other students have to wait until after**.**"

"Excellent," Harry nodded along. He had an idea that Snape was about to say something upsetting, and Harry hoped if he was only half-listening that the news would not be quite as bad.

"I want perfect marks from you," Snape insisted. "Highest marks. Anything too low, and you'll be in trouble."

So half-listening did not help. Harry glared at Snape. "What _trouble_ trouble? Like lecture trouble or bad trouble?"

"What do you think?" Snape evenly met his gaze.

"That's unfair! I get a few bad marks and you take it out on my arse?"

"Harry," Snape warned. "Language."

"I thought I got that for lying and running away and putting myself in danger, not school marks," Harry objected.

"I want you focused," Snape pointed a finger at him. "And if a little threatening helps you study and not play about these next few days, so be it."

"You are not going to punish me for school grades," Harry insisted.

"Not if you make high ones," Snape returned. "Otherwise, it's over my desk you go."

Harry glowered and sulked for a moment before he said brashly, "Well, it's not going to happen because I'm making all good marks."

"See that you do," Snape replied.

"And if I can't go with everyone to New Years, I want to have a good Christmas – it's only fair."

Snape grimaced slightly. "What did you have in a mind?"

Harry felt a bit of satisfaction at having turned the tables.

"Presents," he said. "Lots of presents. We give some to the house elves as well. And decorations. A tree, and garland, and wreaths, and holly, and bright lights, and lots of food, and music. I want music. A Christmas to end all Christmases."

Snape looked like he had a sour stomach. "Really? Wouldn't you rather have a quiet Christmas?"

"Do you want to dress up as Father Christmas?" Harry challenged.

"Fine, an overdone Christmas," Snape promised. "But only if you get those good marks. Otherwise you'll spend Christmas miserable and present-less."

"And if I get good marks, we're hanging stockings up Christmas Eve."

Snape sneered, but finally said, "Agreed."

"Good," Harry smiled as he reached for a stack of books and settled down by the fire for long evening of reading.

In the end, it turned out a good thing that Snape had threatened him because the closer the first term test got, the less Harry felt compelled to study. He wanted nothing more than to sit with his friend and eat sweets and drink tea while everyone talked. He also found ways to meet Luna at odd times in the day and talk to her about nothing really, but he felt the day was a waste unless he saw Luna at least twice.

They even went up to the owlery once for Harry to spend some time with Hedwig. Luna petted some of the owls and none of them dared try to bite her fingers. Harry had fixed them all with a stern gaze when they first came in, an unspoken promise to wring the neck of any bird being mean to Luna. As a result, she stroked their downy feathers without any trouble.

Along with studying, friends, and Luna, Snape worked him mercilessly, increasing his training sessions by half an hour. Harry was so tired he barely had energy to conduct the DA meetings so he left Ron and Hermione take over most of the meetings while he sat on a side bench and commented every so often.

Oddly enough, the person he saw the most in his spare time was Draco. Draco seemed to find spare time to find him before class and after and before meals, and sometimes they talked. Other times they just hung out.

"I think I like Luna," Harry blurted out on evening when they had gone to the castle's highest tower to look out at all the snow.

"Brilliant," Draco had responded. "You think if I threw this rock hard enough it would land on the lake?"

"You don't have anything more to say?" Harry looked at him in surprise.

"No, if you like her, you like her. She's a ditzy blond with mush for brains and a gaze like she's been hit with a club right across the forehead, but your choice, mate."

Harry glared at him. "You think if I threw _you_ hard enough you'd land on the lake?"

"Like whoever you like," Draco shrugged. "But seriously, are you coming to New Years?"

"You know I can't."

"No, I know you said Snape said no, but we both know if you really wanted to go, not even Snape could stop you."

"Snape really doesn't want me to go," Harry protested, but his voice sounded weak in the cold air.

"Watcha going to do, Potter?" Draco challenged. "You're going to stay at home and mind like a good little boy? Or you're going be a man and do what you want to do?"

"Snape will tear me apart," Harry shook his head. "Honestly, he'll whip me so hard I won't recover until spring."

"Then you have to decide," Draco smirked. "Is it worth the agony to have a little fun?"

That was the question, all right. Harry had no answer.

And a week later as he packed to leave Hogwarts for Snapdragon Manor, he still had no answer.


	20. Back for Christmas

The first thing Harry did upon arriving at the manor was to drop all his stuff in the front hall and race around the place like a crazy person. He went up to see his bedroom, ducked into the bathroom, and even pulled open some of the drawers in both rooms to see if stuff was where he left it. Once satisfied that no one had rearranged his rooms, he dashed to the library and then galloped into the family room, the dining room, and other rooms of the manor.

He was unpacking his things in the middle of the entrance hall and pulling out his broom when Snape caught him.

"Where do you think you're going, young man?"

"Out to fly."

"Indeed you will not. Look at this mess. Why didn't you unpack in your room?"

Despite Harry's protest that they only had a few hours of light left, Snape persisted in being horrid and made him take all the stuff upstairs, without any help from the house elves. Then Harry had to put away his belongings (not to cram them under the bed) and then get himself ready for supper.

"Can't I ride after?" Harry asked as they sat down to dinner. "I'll stay near the house."

"You'll catch your death," Snape replied. "It's freezing out there."

"I'll put on a coat and gloves and a scarf."

"With your luck, you'll twist it around your neck and hang yourself from your own broom. Oh, take that sad look off your face. You may fly for a bit, but you stay near the house, above the trees, and try no tricks. Then it's upstairs for a hot bath and bed."

Harry grinned and dug into the soup before him.

Flying in the dark in December over the Manor was an entirely different matter than flying in the summer had been. The wind bit against his face, his glasses felt like icy steel, and his ears were red and raw after the first ten minutes. At school playing Quidditch, all the gear and the excitement kept him from noticing the cold, but here Harry wanted down after the first twenty minutes. But he kept flying, not wanting to go inside to hear Snape's "I told you so." Snape might be right about a lot of things, but Harry saw no reason to encourage the man's arrogance.

Harry made a point of flying for an hour and then limped back to the house with stiff limbs and chattering teeth. After hanging his things up, he went straight upstairs and drew himself a hot bath to soak in to get the warmth back into his body. He had finished brushing his teeth and padded back into his bedroom to find Snape there.

"What are you doing?" Snape sounded cross. "I thought you were going to have tea downstairs like we always do."

"Sorry," Harry said at once. "I was cold. We can have it now."

"Put a robe on and slippers," Snape relented. "And you'll brush your teeth when you come back up."

Three minutes later, Snape had him in a large armchair in front of a roaring fire with a strong cup of tea in his hands. Snape even forced him to take two sugar biscuits and refilled his cup when he was done. Snape talked to him for a while, asking what the flying was like and how Harry felt about his team this year. Despite their rooting for different teams, Harry found he could have a long conversation with Snape about Qudditch and playing techniques.

Two hours later, when Snape finally hustled him up to bed at midnight, Harry collapsed into his bed where Snape had charmed the blankets warm. Right before he fell asleep, Harry decided that he definitely would not sneak off to Diagon Alley for New Years.

------

"I can't believe you're making me train during the holidays," Harry grumbled as he slumped into a chair, his hair damp from the bath he had taken after a grueling afternoon of exercise and spell-casting in the garden. "And making the stone wall turn into a monster to attack me was unfair. I'm never going to be attacked by a stone wall!"

"Mmm," Snape did not look up from his book. "Rest for a bit. You have two hundred push-ups and sit-ups to do after supper."

"I'm sore," Harry heard the whine in his own voice, but he couldn't help it.

"Good, good," Snape nodded, not listening anymore.

"What are you reading?" Harry craned his head to see the page.

"None of your concern. I need time for this – go amuse yourself for a while."

Harry opened his mouth to complain, but a loud clanging went off at the moment, signaling the wards being broken. Harry jumped to his feet, but Snape closed his book and rose serenely. "Right on time."

Without waiting for the house elves, Snape strode into the entrance while Harry behind him. Snape pulled the day open to reveal McGonagall and Moretta on the front steps.

Harry blinked at the sight of his head of house, but he couldn't help glowering at Moretta. When Snape let them in, Harry said, "Good afternoon, Professor," to McGonagall, but to Moretta, he muttered, "'Lo."

"Harry," Snape reproved before turning to the women. "Welcome, please come in. There is a fire in the family room."

Once the women were situated by the fire (Snape even gave Moretta Harry's armchair, the traitor!), Snape turned to Harry.

"Why don't you prepare some tea for our guests? The tea tray is waiting outside on the table."

"But Snape –"

Harry got that look, the one that told him not argue. Scowling, he went outside, purposely leaving the door a crack open so he could heard whatever they might say.

"A bit sulky, isn't he?" Moretta, the old hag, commented.

"Nonsense," McGonagall said in her usual pert way. "He's a different boy all together. Happy, bright, active, never looked healthier. I don't know what you're doing to him, Severus, but I hope you continue."

Harry could not believe his own head of house had turned on him. He set the cups on the plates as quietly as he could to hear the rest of the conversation.

"I don't pander to him," Snape replied. "I've always said he needed strictness and a firm hand. He's been mollycoddled far too long, getting away with disobedience left and right."

"Well, it is hard, sometimes," McGonagall objected, though she sounded only half-convinced. "He looked so miserable before, and he lost his parents. I hated having to scold him or take away house points during his first few years. I always thought he needed good friends and an open ear to listen to him."

Harry had always liked McGonagall.

"Please," Snape scoffed. "The only thing he ever needed was discipline. Structure and discipline without too much leeway or bleeding hearts feeling sorry for him."

"I quite agree," Moretta added.

It was all too much to bear. Harry stood there seething, while they talked about him like adults might discuss a small child.

He looked down at the tea set. He could switch the sugar out for salt or grind up rocks to put in the tea or conjure up bugs to place on top of the small tarts and biscuits. That would show Snape to talk like he had Harry all figured out.

But . . . if he did that, Snape would explain away his bad behavior as being cooped up to long with nothing to do or as being evidence that more strictness was needed to stop such naughtiness. Harry growled – trust Snape to set up circumstances where Harry had to do the right thing or risk appearing childish.

He entered the room with the tea prepared. He served McGonagall first, careful not to spill a drop and then served Moretta, resisting the urge to spill the whole pot of tea on her lap. Then he served Snape.

"May I have some tea or do I have to get on the floor and beg, master?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Have some tea and don't bother us," Snape dismissed him with an indulgent look.

Harry got his tea and sipped on it while the conversation turned to school and classes and curriculum. He thought about chiming in on the conversation, but Moretta might say something about children being seen and not heard, and Harry knew he couldn't endure that, so he stayed quiet. However, listening to people talk and not being able to participate soon became boring, and Harry amused himself by dropping sugar cubes into his cup and pouring in small bits of tea. He drank the super sweet tea until Snape told he had had enough and should go to the library to study.

Harry went without a fight, but he stopped outside the door to listen at the keyhole. However, Snape cast a silencing spell, and Harry couldn't make out a word they were saying. He went to the library, but just wasted time in general rather than study. The two teachers stayed for almost three hours, and when they left, they said nothing though Moretta looked very pale and McGonagall's eyes were suspiciously red.

Snape made Harry tell them goodbye. Moretta stepped outside without a word, but McGonagall put her hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "You mind your adopted father."

When Harry nodded, McGonagall gave him a weak smile. "Severus, take care of him."

"What rubbish," Harry groused as soon as the women had gone. "You would have thought I was some meddlesome five-year-old."

"Mmm," Snape looked at him, considering.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I'm debating whether to have you stand in the corner or send you up to your room for the day. Can you not be polite to our guests for five minutes?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

Snape pressed his lips together. "Well, see you behave in the future."

"Then you're not going to tell me why they came here? What you talked about after you made me leave?"

"No."

Harry had not expected Snape to relay any information at all, and while that frustrated him, he knew that Snape had he reasons for keeping secrets. "Guess you'll tell me when I need to know."

"Indeed," Snape turned and walked away without looking back.

No doubt about – Harry planned to sneak out to Diagon Alley for New Years. That was his secret and Snape would learn about it once he realized Harry was gone

------

Four days before Christmas, the letter arrived.

Harry had taken it upon himself to open the window before breakfast every morning to let the delivery owls in. He had told himself that he was doing it as a kindness to Snape, a small chore to show he was not completely useless around the Manor, but of course that was all nonsense. Harry checked everyday to see if his marks from Hogwarts had arrived.

He also tried to convince himself that Snape had not been serious about the marks, that the man had no intention of doing anything for low marks other than frowning and saying he hoped Harry did better in the future.

Yet the morning the letter arrived – a thick square parchment envelope with elaborate writing on the front and Hogwarts seal on the back – Harry felt his palms go sweaty.

His first impulse was to hide the letter. Put it under the chair, or slip it under the rug, hurl it in the fire – just get rid of it!

He managed to push down that hysterical reaction and next thought about just giving it to Snape and feigning disinterest until Snape told him what his marks were.

But that was nonsense, too. The letter wasn't addressed to Snape – it had Harry's name right on the front – Mr. Harry Potter. They were his marks, the marks he had earned with the hours of lessons and studying since September.

"Ugh, sodding mess," Harry grumbled as he tore the envelope open.

For a moment, he looked at the parchment and could not comprehend what it said. Unlike the O.W.L.s that he had taken at the end of last year, these marks were graded on percentages, 0 to 100 though Hermione had once scored 112% in Charms and 320% in Muggle Studies which Harry thought was cheating since she had been raised with Muggle parents. Harry had never really paid attention to the mid-year marks or the end of years marks either. They always sent them to him, but by then it was Christmas or summer holiday, and who cared about marks then?

But there in the middle of the paper were his marks for the fall.

_Charms- 93%_

_Defense against the Dark Arts- 94%_

_Herbology- 91%_

_Potions- 82%_

_Transfiguration- 97%_

Charms was good – he had studied hard in that. Defense, also good mainly because Snape was teaching and Harry never, ever went to class unprepared. Herbology, fine – Transfiguration, good – Potions –

Harry swallowed hard. 82%. Not good. Not horrible or awful or failing, but not good like the others.

It was all Moretta's fault. She was out to get him, as always. Sneaking around, watching him, judging him, nasty bitch!

Not a nice thing to think about someone, but Harry stalked around the dining room, working himself into a temper. He would have revenge – he would make her life a living nightmare, he would torture her with more pranks than Fred and George imagined possible. He would drive her crazy with his bad behavior until she had to leave Hogwarts to keep her mental health. They would put her in St. Mungo where she would spent the rest of her short life fearing that Potter boy might come back to torment her.

The dinner room door opened, and Snape stepped in. "Oh, Harry, do you know where I put –"

"She has it in for me!" Harry nearly yelled. He held up the parchment. "And now I have proof. Right here on the paper. It might as well say 'Die, Harry Potter'!"

"What on earth are you going on about?" Snape demanded as he took the paper. "These are just your marks."

"Yeah, I know," Harry crossed his arms. "See what she gave me in Potions."

Snape glanced at the sheet for moment. "Well, Harry," he finally said, "you did very well for the most part. These marks tell me that you can certainly stay in the top ten percentile. As for Potions, I think it is a poor excuse to blame Moretta. When you were in my Potions class, we never got along, and you still managed an Exceeds Expectations in your O.W.L.s."

Harry nodded, dreading whatever might happen next.

"Since you're doing so well in your other classes, I think you might concentrate on Potions a little more. I'll be honest with you – I was hoping you might be at the top of your class because you had plenty opportunities to ask me questions about Potions."

Harry felt his heart sinking and his stomach twisted horribly. He wished Snape would just start smacking him and make him feel better about being such a disappointment.

"All I ask from you is your best," Snape went on. "I'm never taking less than your very best. You owe it to me and you owe it to yourself."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"Very good. Well, what say we have breakfast now? I was looking for my coat a minute ago because I can't seem to find it, but I suppose the house elves –"

"Wait, that's it?" Harry demanded. "That's the end of the marks? You aren't going to do anything else about it?"

"82% isn't that bad. Believe me, if it had been 42% we would be having a much different conversation."

"But I was scared to death!" Harry declared. "I've been worrying about these since exams, since you told me I would be in trouble trouble if I got poor marks."

"And it helped you study harder," Snape shrugged. "I should have told you what they were earlier, but I forgot."

"That's right! You said you would know my marks once all the teachers were done. How long have you known?"

"Before we left Hogwarts. But I thought I'd give you a bit of a rest at home first."

"You said wanted perfect marks. None of these are perfect marks, not even Transfiguration."

"You're right," Snape nodded. "Put your hands out, palms up."

Harry offered out his hands, wondering what instrument of torture Snape would use on them. Harry had the fleeting thought he might be slightly masochistic, but he had thought that ever since last year when he seemed to provoke Umbridge into punishing him, a way of atoning for Cedric's death. He might be going mad, but he liked the feeling after Snape had punished him, when he was forgiven and they could the whole wretched business behind them nad he didn't have to mentally beat himself up anymore.

Snape rolled up the parchment and then he swatted Harry's left hand, then his right hand. "Naughty Harry," Snape scolded. "Bring those marks up."

The parchment would not have hurt on normal hands, and after weeks of training, Harry's hands were so hard and callused that he barely felt anything. His mouth dropped open at what Snape had done.

"Now that's done," Snape put the parchment on the table. "Can we have some breakfast or do I need to swat you with the envelope, too?"

"Miserable bastard," Harry grumbled as he sat down the table.

"Your language is deplorable," Snape shook his head as he sat down at the table as well. "I would soap your mouth out, but you might like it, and then you'd make me do it every time you swear."

"I do not like being punished," Harry insisted. "I only like it when everything is over and finished."

"You've always wanted closure," Snape told him. "You like the fact that you have to answer for your behavior to an authority who remain constant. And once it's done, it's done. As I told McGonagall and Moretta – and I knew you were listening at the door – you need structure and a firm hand."

Harry yanked his napkin off the table with a scowl. He was definitely sneaking out at New Years, and he would do his best not to feel one speck of guilt about it. That would show Snape.

------

The next a miserable rain cloaked the manor in fog and mist. Harry stood at the window in Snape's study and watched the drizzle while Snape worked at his desk. The rain did not seem to be letting up.

He sat down in the window seat and drew his knees up, looping his arms around them, and stared at the raindrops sliding down the pane.

Sometimes the raindrops ran straight down, but sometimes two drops would connect together before tumbling down the glass. It looked like the window was crying, the tears streaming down in broken despair.

Harry pulled his knees to his chest and wonder if –

"Fine," Snape threw his quill. "If you're going to sit there sulking!"

"I'm not sulking," Harry was surprised. "I was just sitting here, watching the rain and –"

"You never give me a moment's peace," Snape stood up. "We might as well get this over with."

"Get what over with?" Harry looked wide-eyed.

"Don't play innocent with me. You knew Draco send me a note this morning asking if he could come over and then if I would take both of you to Diagon Alley for some Christmas shopping this afternoon. It's pouring outside, but you two have to go out and catch your deaths."

"I didn't know Draco sent a note," Harry said honestly, but Snape would not listen.

"We're going to wrap up, and you're taking a warming potion before we leave, and I don't want to hear one word of protest," Snape was doing his best martyr look, the beleaguered father with a pestering son. "And then you'll want all of your allowance to buy gifts for all your useless friends – I don't know why I put up with this wretched behavior, I really don't."

Harry had not thought about gifts or the possibility of shopping in Diagon Alley, but that sounded a million times better than sitting and watching the rain fall. He took the potion without complaint though Snape told him to stop making faces, and then he wrapped up in warm clothes. Snape handed him a small bag of coins. Harry was about to count it all out to see much he had saved in the recent months, when the doorbell rang.

They found Draco on the doorstep, fighting to get his umbrella closed and splattering himself with more rainwater than the umbrella had kept off.

"About ruddy time," Draco said when they opened the door. "You said you'd meet me at the gate ten minutes ago."

"Stop your griping and get in," Snape pulled the door back. "You should be grateful I agreed to this at all."

"How come the wards didn't go off?" Harry asked.

"They spelled to let me in," Draco smirked.

"Wipe that look off your face and come to the floo," Snape directed them into the next room.

"We're flooing there?" Harry asked. "Last time we drove."

"Come along," Snape said impatiently.

They went to the study where the working fireplace burning brightly. As Snape took his wand and spelled the fire out and began hovering the logs out, Draco leaned close to Harry.

"Guess what?" he whispered. "Luna's going to be at Diagon Alley. I'm going to distract Snape, and you two can meet inside the Leaky Cauldron, just the two of you."

Harry blinked, but Snape had already turned back with the wooden bowl of floo powder. Harry took a handful, but Draco also grabbed some and stepped up to the fireplace.

Draco smirked again at Harry and then flung down the powder. As he disappeared in a puff of green smoke, Harry wondered what kind of trouble Draco would get him into.


	21. Snow

Thanks to Fawkes Song for betaing.

-----

Diagon Alley was covered in snow and Christmas decorations: wreaths and garlands and ribbons and bells tingling in the cold wind. With promises to Snape to meet back at the tavern in two hours, Harry headed off one side of the Alley, peering in every window.

Draco sarcastically muttered something about not pressing his nose to the window like a six-year-old, but he stayed near Harry and talked about the contents of each window.

"Nice treats," Draco nodded at the window of a sweets shop. "By the way, Luna will be here in an hour. You two can share a cuppa while I cover for you."

Harry looked into the window to hide his nervousness. "Snape isn't going to look for us for an hour. Why are you covering?"

"Because it's a secret meeting," Draco grinned. "Like a love affair."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're a romantic."

"No, I'm just trying to get you snogged and sexed," Draco's grin became roguish.

"You're horrible," Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm honest. Any bloke who says he wants a chaste friendship with a girl is lying to himself."

"What about Hermione?"

"You knew that Weasley liked her. Any bloke who steals his best friend's girl is a bastard."

"Life according to Draco," Harry scoffed as he moved to the next window.

Harry made his way down one side of the street and stopped when he reached the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"You scared, Potter?" Draco challenged with a sneer. "I dare you to run down there, all the way to Borgin and Burkes."

"No thanks," Harry turned away.

"Scared?" Draco smirked.

"No," Harry bent to tie his shoe.

"Yes, you are. You're scared off of Snape finding out. He's wrapped you around his finger like a baby who –"

Harry stood up and flung the snowball he had made while pretending to tie his shoe. It hit Draco straight in the face. The blond boy shrieked in pain and outrage. Harry took advantage of Draco's confusion and ran forward to push the other boy into the snow.

Not waiting around, Harry took off down the street, back to the main part of Diagon Alley. He remembered from the summer thanthat Draco could run faster than he could, but after months of training with Snape, Harry realized he was faster and stronger than Draco. Feeling bad, ,Harry turned around to see Draco trudging through the snowy street, batting snow off his coat.

Harry went back, apologizing, "Sorry."

"You're a prat," Draco scowled. "I come all this way and arrange a meeting with your lover –"

Harry snorted.

"Your soon to be lover," Draco corrected.

"Over Snape's dead body," Harry laughed. "He'd thrash me for a month if I tried to make Luna my lover. My lover – who talks like that anymore? You've been reading too many novels."

Draco looked away, his cheeks slightly red.

"Do wizards have romance novels like Muggles?" Harry questioned. "Those thick books you see in the markets – The Slut and Her Hero or the Temptress's Cad. The one's ones with the man showing his chest and the woman with the huge breasts."

"There's nothing wrong with erotica," Draco crossed his arms defensively.

"You need to take a lover," Harry decided.

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry reached over to grab Draco's arm.

"Look," he whispered, pointing so Draco could see. "There's Moretta. Where do you think she's going?"

Both boys watched quietly as Moretta slipped down the lane, her long cloak trailing in the snow.

"Come on," Harry started forward.

"Unbelievable," Draco whispered. "You won't go down Knockturn, but you'll follow a teacher all over the place. This is wrong."

"Fine, _Hermione_," Harry said. "You stay here like a good girl, while I follow her."

"Shut up," Draco snarled.

They crept along behind Moretta, careful to keep at least fifteen feet away. She did not look back – she went all the way into the Leaky Cauldron without slowing for a second.

Harry wondered how they would be able to spy on her if she stayed in the main room of the pub, but fortunately, she headed back to one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind her.

"Blast," Harry frowned. "We can't listen at the door. It'll be too obvious."

"What if we go into the next private room?" Draco pointed at the open door. "No one's in it."

The empty private room was cold, but Harry huddled up against the wall as Draco nudged the door shut.

"We have a few minutes before they come and make us pay to use the room," Draco guessed.

Harry nodded as he pressed his ears to the wall where there was a large knoll in the rough wood. The voices were audible but garbled.

"No good," Harry shook his head.

"Out of the way, Potter," Draco pulled out his wand. "_Audire Magus_!"

The voices came through the wall, soft but much clearer.

"Then it's been confirmed?" a man said, a voice that Harry did not recognize.

"Indeed," a woman said – Harry was fairly sure it was Moretta. "All our eyes have confirmed. He is rising . . . soon. We must act."

"The spells are almost done," another man said. Harry realized with shock that it was Dumbledore. "Severus has been working tirelessly to bring them about."

"He is willing to be the key?" Moretta did not sound convinced.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said. "He will be here soon and will tell us all. But the magic has been confirmed. We have researched it, and it does require a bond. Thankfully, that bond is cemented, legally as well as emotionally and mentally."

"I don't trust Snape," the first man objected.

"His actions have proved him trustworthy," Moretta objectedargued. "We are not here to debate Snape any longer. What matters now is the spell."

"Yes, right," another female chimed in. Harry blinked. It sounded like Tonks. "We got Remus on board and he says Snape's work is right where it should be."

"But I don't like having all our plans rest on the one spell," the first man protested. "We need to have back-up in case that spell fails or simply doesn't work."

"We are the back up," Dumbledore sounded serious. "After the spell, we stand against the brink, ready to push back the tide of evil."

"Excuse me," a barkeep opened the door. "Can I help you gentlemangentlemen? Dear me, is that Harry Potter?"

"Um, yes," Harry searched for an excuse. I was – we were –"

"My mate here is going to meet his girl, and we were just rehearsing what he was going to say."

"Oh, really?" the barkeep raised his eyebrows. "Harry Potter is getting a girlfriend? Well, I can't let you stay in here, but I can give you something to wet your whistle. Man shouldn't face such a serious business without a bit of fortitude. Come on, on the house."

Harry found himself hustled up to a barstool with something thick and amber poured into a small glass. Draco took the stool beside him, looking all suave and cool to be drinking liquor in a pub.

"What do you think they were talking about?" Harry glanced over his shoulder as at the closed door.

"I dunno," Draco shrugged. "I guess they are working on some secret spell. But that's a lot of people to have in there all at once. They said Snape would come later. Drink up, and let's get out of here."

Harry grabbed the glass and tossed the contents back with one gulp. He meant to look nonchalant, but the alcohol burned so badly that he nearly choked. "Water," he gasped at the trail of fire which blazed down to his stomach.

When the barkeep set down a glass full of water, Harry grabbed it and gulped it down. He set the glass down with a clink and stood up. "All right. I'm ready to go meet Luna."

"That's the spirit," Draco grinned.

On the way out of the door, they bumped into Snape. Harry immediately closed his mouth, not wanting Snape to smell the alcohol. Snape wasn't completely forbidding about alcohol; he occasionally let Harry have a few sips of wines wine at dinner. And Harry guessed that most potions were made with some kind of alcohol for brewing purposes.

But Harry saw no reason to let Snape know he had had a taste of firewhiskey. That might lead to unpleasant conversations in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron that had enough patrons to make a confrontation with Snape look odd. Harry wasn't in disguise, too.

"Mr. Potter," Snape nodded coldly, keeping up the charade.

Harry nodded, not saying anything.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do hope you both are behaving yourselves."

Draco nodded as well, and they stepped past Snape into the cold air.

"You think he wouldn't like you drinking the firewhiskey?" Harry asked once Snape was out of hearing distance.

"Like? He threatened to make me drink fish oil for a week if I ever tasted alcohol," Draco made a face. "Fish oil has to be the nastiest thing the Muggles ever invented. Ugh! Oh, look, there's Luna."

Harry glanced up ahead and he saw her, standing in the middle of the street, dreamily gazing up at the frosted sign above one of the shops. As Harry got closer, she saw him and her face relaxed into a smile.

"Hello," she breathed as he stopped in front of her. "You are here, just like Draco said."

"Yeah," Harry grinned, tongued-tied.

Draco looked immensely proud of himself as he looked back and forth between Harry and Luna. "Well, don't just stand there. Kiss each other."

Harry felt his cheeks blaze and he reached over to punch Draco in the shoulder, using about half his strength. "Such a joker," he brushed his embarrassment off.

"Should we go get some tea?" Luna suggested.

"Sure," Harry agreed, ready to head off.

Draco grabbed his arm, whispering, "You have enough money, right?"

"Yes, of course," Harry shook free. "No one thinks I can do anything for myself anymore."

"I'll be keeping a lookout outside," Draco promised.

Luna giggled as they slipped into the tearoom. "Everyone looks after you now. You have a new father and now you have an older brother."

"Draco's only a few months older," Harry objected. "And I don't need them looking after me. I'll be of age next summer."

They found a cozy corner in the back, and Harry ordered a pot of tea, plate of biscuits, and small sandwiches. He felt tingles run up and down his spine. It was all so new to him. He had ordered food in a pub before, but he had never done so with a girl before, a girl he found attractive and pretty. His heart beat a little faster every time she smiled at him, and his stomach flopped as he sat so close to her.

When the food came, Harry forced himself to eat some of it, just to give himself something to do, but he mostly watched Luna eat. She liked to take a sip of tea, a bite of a biscuit, and a bite of sandwich, and started start over this with tea again. As they talked, the small radishes from her ears swayed back and forth. Harry wished he was brave enough to reach out and touch the earrings. He wondered if Bill or Charlie could take control of situations and act on impulses with their dates.

And Luna wasn't too dreamy, either. She had a whimsical air about her, but Harry liked to imagine that she was seeing the beauty in everything and watching it in awe. Where other people saw drab stone walls and bare ground, Luna saw roses growing from the stones and future gardens. She imagined grace and elegancy elegance and mystery, and she had a kind heart and sweet nature. Harry felt his own heart beat a little faster.

Outside the window, barely visible from their back table, Draco crowded close to the window and tried to catch Harry's eye. The moment Harry looked up, Draco started making hand signals, trying to tell Harry what to do next.

"Your friend is very amusing," Luna observed. "Were you not enemies last year?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "but I got to know him over the summer. He's still a prat – make no mistake about that. He's selfish and pushy and he'll never be half the friend Ron is, but I guess we're kind of friends. It's strange. Ron liked me from the minute I got on the train. Ron was my first friendsfriend, my best friend, and I could ask him to do anything for me, and he'd be there in a second. Draco grew on me after spending the summer with Snape."

"Everyone needs diversity in friends," Luna agreed. "You need it more than anyone."

"Meaning what?" Harry asked.

"You are going to be a leader. You can't surround yourself with all the same people. The more diverse people you have around you, the more you can see what would be the best for the most people. That was Voldemort's problem. He surrounded himself with Death Eaters who thought exactly like he did."

"And he was evil," Harry added.

"That too," Luna smiled.

They could have sat in the tearoom forever, Harry thought, talking about all sort sorts of things: hobbies, interests, school, the kinds of people they liked, reading, families, Christmas wishes. But Harry eventually brought himself to look at his pocketwatch – the one Snape had given him – and he realized the hour was growing late.

"We have to go," Harry left the money on the table. "Let me walk you out."

Harry barely noticed the cold as they stepped out. In some magical way, his whole world seemed too good to be true. Luna walked close towards him and slipped her hand into his. Witches and wizards were shopping and wandering all over the snow-covered alley, and then a light snow started to fall.

It was too perfect. In the middle of the street, Harry turned to face Luna. He looked deep into her shimmering eyes an and then he leaned forward. Their foreheads touched for a second, and Harry felt her warm breath on his face.

Then he kissed her.

Her mouth – wet, warm, and soft – pressed against his lips, and he reached down to grab her by the waist, to pull her closer.

Luna reached her arms up to twine around his neck, and they kept kissing as the snow fell.

Someone started clapping behind them, and more people joined the clapping, and there were calls of "Harry Potter has a girlfriend!" "Harry Potter's kissing someone!" "Look, the Chosen One has chosen one!"

Among the clapping, catcalls and whistles sounded until the whole market seemed to be egging them on. Harry broke off the kiss, turning with an enormous smile on his face just in time to get caught in the blinding flash of a camera.

"Front page news!" someone shouted.

Amid the sea of faces, Harry saw Draco, who looked very, very pleased with himself at having masterminded the whole the meeting.

People were shouting out questions, wanting to know how long they had been dating and how they felt about each other. Harry just grinned bashfully, pulling Luna tight against him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her arm around his waist.

"Kiss her again," someone (probably Draco) yelled.

Harry turned and they kissed again, a long show of lips on lips for several seconds, and then broke apart with a loud kissing noise.

The crowd cheered again, and Harry basked in the glory. He had gotten praise before for his heroic ventures, but never for a romantic display.

He wanted to give a speakspeech, something eloquent to praise Luna's spirit and beauty and character and everything about her, but Harry couldn't do more than grin.

Then, on the edge of the crowd, he saw Snape watching him. Snape's dark eyes stayed on him, and the man glowered menacingly. Obviously, Snape did not like public displays of affection.

But Snape couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't storm into the crowd and grab Harry because that would mean showing people that Snape had a connection to Harry and then people would doubt his loyalties to the Dark Lord. Snape was powerless as long as Harry had the attention, and Harry wondered if he should milk the scene for all it was worth and drag it out to a half hour show or if he should start running and hope Snape didn't catch up to him any time soon.

"Well," Harry finally found his voice, "that's all everyone. Luna and I are dating, and we really would prefer to be alone for now. Thank you and have a very happy holiday."

People clapped again, but Harry grabbed Luna's arm and pulled her out from the center of the crowd. They dashed up the road in into the Leaky Caldron.

"I have to go," Harry sighed. "But I'll write to you and maybe I'll see you some more over New Years."

"Are you coming back here for New Years?" Luna asked. "Are you really going to sneak out?"

"I still don't know."

"Poor Harry Potter," Luna put a warn warm hand on his cold face. "Still so many decisions to make. So many choices."

"I made one right choice," Harry said.

She smiled, and they kissed one more time. She whispered "Goodbye" and skipped off, her hair swinging in the hair.

Harry leaned against the wall, favor savoring the bliss he felt. He hadn't done any shopping, but he thought he had done more towards making it the next best Christmas he ever had than he ever thought possible.

He finally made his way back to the room with the fireplace they had used for the Floo. It was deserted except for Draco standing to one side, looking awkward.

"Sorry about staying so long," Harry started to apologize.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, making him jump.

"Sn-n-nape," he stuttered. "You found us. We were getting worried."

"That's enough out of you," Snape turned him to face the fireplace. He gave him a swat on the bottom to get him going. "We're going home this second and we're going to have a very long conversation about what is appropriate behavior on the streets and what is not."

"Well, I better give you some privacy," Draco stepped back.

"You, too, young man," Snape barked. "You think for a moment that I'm fooled into believing that you didn't have a hand in this, that you didn't plan this, that you weren't orchestrating the whole thing? Both of you, to the manor now."

It was, Harry surmised as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, rather a wretched end to a date filled with so much excited excitement and emotion. Such a shame that Snape was too old to remember what it was like to be young and in love.


	22. Something He Had to Do

I am writing a ton over Christmas break, and this next chapter practically wrote itself. Thanks to Fawkes Song for betaing. Writing is so, so, so much easier with a beta. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to write anything.

-------

In the three seconds that Harry waited for Snape to come through the Floo, he managed to come up with eleven different reasons why none of it was his fault. His excuses ranged from "Draco made me" and "I was under the Imperious Spell" to "Luna is like a hungry animal and there's no stopping her" to "Someone offered me a hundred galleons to stage a kiss with her."

By the time Snape did appear, Harry had convinced himself that the best order of business would be to stay quiet and see what Snape had to say. Past experiences had taught him that the less he said, the better, as Harry had the unfortunate tendency to confess more than necessary when he started making excuses. So he simply waited for Snape to start.

"Into the family room," Snape pointed.

"Why am I getting yelled at?" Draco protested. "He was the one with his tongue down her throat."

"There was no tongue!" Harry objected. "Okay, maybe a little tongue, but not way down her throat. I moved it around some but . . ." he trailed off at Snape's look. Once again, the less said, the better.

"I could excuse the fact that you were conducting yourself inappropriately in public, but the fact remains that you attracted unnecessary attention. But we'll start at the beginning. Did you plan this rendezvous, without telling me?"

Harry glanced at Draco and then answered, "Yes."

"What part did Draco play in it?"

"None at all," Harry answered, lifting his chin. "It was all me."

"Liar," Draco snorted. "I planned the whole thing."

"Shut up," Harry turned furiously.

Snape grabbed Harry, spun him to the side, and brought his hand down hard four times, the spanks loud in the quiet room. "I thought we already went over lying for other people!"

"Oh, please," Harry scowled even though he didn't try to get away. "It was just a kiss. It's not like we were rolling around in the snow and taking off our clothes."

"Do I need to go get the ruler?"

"No. All right, Draco set it up, but I wanted to kiss her. And it's not his fault either. He's been reading too many romance books."

"That was supposed to be a secret," Draco huffed. "I'm not telling you anything, Potter. You're a lying little snitch, such a goody-goody, two-faced baby who doesn't –"

Harry yanked out of Snape's grasp and lunged at Draco. They wrestled against each other for a second, half-serious, half-roughhousing, but then Draco tripped over Harry's leg and he fell down on the floor.

Harry smirked at the power of his own strength. "I'd watch your mouth, Malfoy. I'll mop the ground with your skinny body."

Draco yanked the edge of the rug up and Harry staggered back a step, colliding into a side table. For an awful second, the crystal vase teetered back and forth dangerously, and then it toppled off, breaking on the floor.

"Boys!" Snape snapped.

"Sorry," Harry and Draco said in unison, both looking down in shame.

Whipping out his wand, Snape reversed the action, and the pieces of broken glass leaped back up on the table into a whole vase again.

"He tripped me," Harry claimed.

"He's like a bull in the china shop, breaking everything. Why don't you just build a barn and keep him out in a stall?" Draco sneered.

"That's it," Harry grabbed Draco under the arms and pulled him up to stand on his feet. "We go outside and deal with this, man to man. When we come back in, the loser agrees to take the blame for today."

"Bring it on, Potter," Draco pulled his hands into fists.

"I'm going to break your nose just so your face won't look so bad," Harry jeered.

"I'm going to move that scar to the other side of your forehead."

Snape had said nothing thus far, watching the two boys goad each other on. But now he spoke, stating, "You are not going to fight."

"Why not?" Harry demanded. "If we're both willing and we do it outside, why can't we fight?"

"Because you'll hurt each other."

"So what?" Draco sided with Harry. "As long as we agree to the rules, we should get to do whatever we want."

"Rules?" Harry glanced at him. "Like a boxing match?"

"Or a duel, but not with magic," Draco opted.

"I'm not allowing this," Snape said, his voice rising a bit.

"No eye gouging," Harry ignored his father.

"No fish-hooking in the mouth," Draco went on.

"Other than that, free fight," Harry grinned.

"I said no," Snape barked out.

"You can let us do this now or we'll sneak out later and fight in the woods," Draco told him. Harry nodded in agreement.

Snape looked like he was ready to strangle them both. He took a deep breath and swallowed. "If you both have to fight and I cannot convince you to do otherwise, then you must do what you must do. However, that means that I have to do what I have to do."

"That sounds fair," Draco said. "Every man for himself."

Harry gave Snape a suspicious look. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Too bad," Draco shoved against Harry's arm. "Come on, before it gets dark."

They both ran for the door, pushing against each other to be the first one out. Draco squeezed through, but Harry was right behind him. They stumbled out the front door into the cold air, Snape right behind them.

"Boys, this is completely mad. I'm not going to –"

"Shove it," Harry reached up to unclasp his cloak. He threw it towards Snape, and Snape caught it, outraged.

"Did you just throw this at –"

"Mine too," Draco tossed his cloak, and Snape impulsively caught it.

"Boys! I am not your servant, and I will not –"

"One," Harry put his fists up in front of his face in his best fighter stance.

"Two," Draco put his fists up as well.

"Three!" they yelled together.

And then the fight was on! Harry pulled his fists back, and suddenly something wrapped around his fists. He realized that he was wearing red boxing gloves, and Draco had green boxing gloves on his hands.

With a yell, Harry started towards Draco. There was lots of grunting and scuffling as they started popping each other with glove-covered fists.

The sound of shoes on gravel and bodies getting pummeled filled the air. Harry did not quite understand exactly what was compelling him to act so barbaric. Half an hour ago, he had been kissing Luna and wanting to love her forever, and now he just wanted to pound Draco into the ground, not because he really wanted to hurt Draco but because it was a terrific way to unleash all his pent-up frustration.

Harry had read something before about sex and violence being closely intertwined, and at the time he didn't really understand it, and he thought it was a silly comparison because he couldn't imagine wanting to hurt a woman he was in love with. The idea was inconceivable at the time, but as he faced off with Draco, he understood the argument a bit better. It wasn't so much as sex and violence together as it was wanting to have sex, and when he couldn't have it, wanting to get rid of his frustration some other way.

Of course, that meant that Draco wanted to have sex, too, with some girl, and Harry had the fleeting thought that a good training session would probably get all his energy out better than pounding each other into the ground.

However, it was far too late for any rational thought, and as Harry drove his padded fist into Draco's nose, he wondered how long Snape would let them fight.

Apparently longer than Snape let him do most things. The man stood on the steps, still holding the cloaks and looking like he had swallowed a lemon, but he made no move to stop them.

Draco landed a lot of punches on Harry's arms and stomach, but the few he did get on the face stung badly. Harry landed two punches on Draco's nose, but it started leaking blood, so he turned his attention to Draco's torso.

Draco had punched him in the mouth, and the pain had been numbingly blinding, but as feeling returned, Harry tasted blood. That just spurred him on, like that Muggle American movie where the men beat each other up in a club for fighting, and he started thwacking Draco even harder.

Without an adult to stop them and without either of them calling a truce, the fight kept going. They were sweating in the frigid air, panting from the exertion, and still yelling for more.

Harry turned to spit out a mouthful of blood, and Draco turned to swipe his face over his sleeve, leaving a smear of blood behind.

"Let's go," Draco shook out his shoulders.

"Absolutely," Harry stepped back into action.

Twenty-six exchanged punches later, they stepped back, gasping for air. Harry realized his ear was bleeding, and Draco had a growing bruise on his forehead.

"What if we never end this?" Draco asked, finally sounding concerned.

"Maybe we should have used magic."

"No magic," Snape said in a flat voice that meant no arguing.

"Five more minutes," Harry gulped down air. "And then we call a truce."

At the end of five minutes, they put down their gloves and stared at each other. Harry lifted one wrist to his mouth and used his teeth to loosen the straps of the boxing glove. Once it was free, he used his loose hand to take off the other. Draco did the same.

Harry put his hand out and Draco shook it. On impulse, Harry reached forward to embrace Draco with one arm, clapping his hand against the blonde's back in a rough hug. Draco returned it, and then they limped towards the front door.

Snape looked down at them in disdain. "If you are quite finished."

"We're done," Harry nodded. "Are you going to heal us, or do you want us dripping blood all over your house?"

"Don't heal me too much," Draco objected. "I want to tell the story of how I got these bruises. I'm thinking something to do with fighting off an escaped dragon."

"Oh, that's good," Harry nodded. "Maybe I could have battled Death Eaters in a dark alley. Twenty of them!"

"Nice," Draco grinned and then winced at how much that hurt.

Snape said nothing as he escorted them into the family room. He left them groaning and returned in a moment with potions.

Harry made a face at the potions, but Draco grabbed his first.

"Bet I can drink this faster than you can," he challenged.

"We'll see." Harry snatched his up.

The potion tasted nasty, of course, but Harry swallowed as fast as he could.

"Done," Draco lowered his vial a split second before Harry shouted, "Finished."

It was rather odd to watch each other heal up, but in a few minutes, the bleeding had stopped, swelling had disappeared and Harry felt only slightly achy rather than fresh from the fight.

"I don't remember why we were fighting," Harry admitted as he handed Snape the vial.

"Who knows?" Draco shrugged.

"Can we have dinner soon?" Harry asked Snape.

Snape raised his eyebrows.

What Snape did next, Harry thought, was completely out of proportion to what had happened that afternoon. Snape started yelling at them as a burst of magic picked up Draco and spun him into the far corner. Harry found himself draped over Snape's lap while the man kept up a stream of scolding as he spanked his errant son.

"Kissing and causing all that attention when you should be keeping your head down and then fighting like animals – after all I've taught you. Wicked boy, disobedient, reckless – I'm going to pound some sense into your stubborn head and I'm going to wallop you every night until Christmas and you're getting switches and coal in your stocking and you're eating the coal, and I'll let you guess what I'll do with the switches."

"Come on!" Harry interrupted the tirade. "Draco and I agreed to fight. We weren't that bad."

"Right," Draco turned from the corner, "it was just –"

"You face that corner or I'm getting out a cane," Snape snarled.

"Not fair," Harry sighed, letting his body go limp over Snape's parental lap. "We beat each other up and we get punished?"

"I'm just doing what I have to do," Snape retorted.

"Fine," Harry shrugged. "I can take a spanking better than he can."

"Cannot," Draco said from the corner.

That apparently set Snape on fire. For the next few minutes, he concentrated on spanking Harry as fast as he could, and Harry ground his teeth together and tried to brave it out. The pain of the fighting had been easier to take than this relentless spanking. While fighting, every painful punch Harry had taken he had got to return back, but when disciplined by Snape, he had to lie still and just take it.

"Fine!" Harry let out a bellow. "We're sorry. No more fighting. And I won't kiss in public or break vases."

"Pushing me towards an early grave," Snape grumbled, but he let Harry up. "Switch places with Draco."

"Oh, let Draco off," Harry urged, reaching back to rub the blaze. "He didn't mean anything."

"Sod you," Draco retorted. "I bet I don't even ask for him to stop."

"I bet you do."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will."

"Corner now!" Snape shouted.

Harry rolled his eyes, but he stepped into the corner and listened as Snape tugged Draco over his lap and started smacking him. Draco proved himself less resilient than Harry, and he started hollering after about five swats. Snape seemed to go on forever, but as Harry reflected from his corner, it was rather the wrong time to go about disciplining them. After getting your face smashed up, a few dozen spanks didn't seem as horrid as they normally would. Even Draco didn't beg like he had last summer.

------

By dinner, Harry had to work to keep his smile down as Snape's fury had reached the boiling point. Draco had invited himself to stay for dinner, and Harry had argued that Draco could stay because he was Snape's godson and practically family. After the spankings had been meted out and produced no tears from either party (by then Harry was pretty certain tears came from guilt rather than the actual pain of a punishment, and as he and Draco did not feel guilty for anything, they had not cried), Snape had ordered them up to Harry's room for a long time out.

Up in the room, they had amused themselves with trying to juggle Christmas ornament balls. They had a pretty good rhythm going (they were both Seekers and good at catching things in the air), but several balls did not survive the practice. When Snape came to collect them for dinner, he found the floor littered with broken colored glass and their shoes were crunching on it as they threw balls up in the air to the count of one up, two up, three switch, one up, two up, three switch. Snape, the right old curmudgeon, had not been impressed with their show and lambasted them for making such a mess.

Once at the table, there had been another shoving match for one chair just because they reached it at the same time. For that, Snape banned dessert, and Harry sat down in the free chair with a scowl.

"He started it," he glared at Draco.

"Shut it," Draco smirked.

After that, of course, it was inevitable that Harry scooped up a spoonful of potatoes and catapulted them right onto Draco's face. The food fight that followed was rather grand despite Snape's bellowing for them to stop.

------

"Good riddance," Snape slammed the front door and locked it.

Harry frowned. "He could have stayed the night. We aren't doing anything tomorrow."

Snape strode up and grabbed his left ear. "Into the corner with you, young man. You'll be standing there until bedtime while I tell you exactly what I think of such appalling behavior."

"We were just having fun," Harry sighed as he stepped into the corner. "A bit of a romp, some boxing, a little food fight – you never want me to have any fun."

"I give up," Snape dropped into a chair. "Your behavior today has been indicative of about ten different ages from a two-year-old throwing food to a sixteen-year-old who thinks he's about to get engaged."

"Do you have to go on and on?" Harry slumped.

"Do you want another spanking?"

"No."

"Then I want you to pay attention and mind me and stop causing so much trouble."

"I took it easy on Draco."

Snape paused. "What do you mean?"

"I could have hit him harder. I could have beaten him in the first few minutes. I threw most of my punches wrong, didn't bother aiming or putting too much power behind any of the hits."

"Come out of the corner and sit down," Snape directed.

Harry did so, sitting in his favorite chair across from Snape. "I think I'm ready," Harry said quietly. "I could feel my strength today. That's why I kept egging Draco on. I wanted to have a fight without magic, to see what I could do without wands."

"And?" Snape looked doubtfully.

Harry leaned forward the slightest bit. "I could have killed him. Everything you taught me about aim, and direction, and force, and everything else from the training – I remembered it all. I could have kept him from landing a single punch – I was faster than he was and so much stronger. Magic is a different game, of course, but my body is ready to fight. I could handle the pain. It didn't distract me or turn me away. I even stepped into some of his punches so I could feel what a real fight would feel like. I'm ready to fight."

Snape wore a worried look. "Harry, it's too soon –"

"Dad, I'm ready."

"No," Snape shook his head. "No, not yet. You need more time, you need more training, you need practice and better skills and endurance."

"You know I'm ready," Harry said seriously.

"I won't have it," Snape began to look frantic. "I won't have you seeking out the Dark Lord to provoke him into action. I'll lock you up here until summer before I let you do that."

"I'm not going to seek out the Dark Lord. But you're going to tell me about the spell that you're working on for Dumbledore. You're going to tell me about Moretta and what you all are planning for this upcoming war. I won't be left in the dark anymore."

Snape shook his head again. "It's too early. I can't risk you knowing."

"I have to know if I'm going to fight him," Harry insisted. "I'm the Chosen One, I'm the one that's marked. How can I fight him if I don't know what you've planned?"

"It's too risky. If you knew, you would act on your own. And at the worst, he might torture you to learn our secrets."

"I would never talk," Harry declared.

"Don't be a fool – everyone talks on the third day."

Harry bit his lip. "Please, please tell me. Let me know so I can help. I've helped before, I've fought before, it's always about me, Dad. Let me help."

"No, I'm not ready to give you up. It's too soon – I haven't even had a full year with you here."

"We can fight him, and we'll be free."

"One Christmas," Snape was almost pleading. "Give me this one Christmas. Let me have one happy Christmas with you here, and in the New Year, I'll tell you everything."

Harry watched him with a sinking stomach.

"That's all I'm asking," Snape went on. "Just one Christmas. I should get to have one of those without worrying about the future. I want one happy Christmas to enjoy my new family. Don't I deserve that much?"

Harry wanted to argue, to demand that Snape tell him, but that didn't seem fair. Harry remembered his first Christmas at Hogwarts, happy with new friends and presents and excitement everywhere. Didn't Snape want the same thing?

"One Christmas," Harry agreed. "But January 1st, you tell me everything, and I mean every last thing. What you're doing for the Order, what the plan is, what is this special spell, where you went all last summer and over Halloween – I want to know everything. You owe it to me."

"Agreed," Snape looked very somber.

Harry leaned back in his chair. He felt frustration bite at him again, but he pushed it down, forcing himself to remain calm and reasonable. After all Snape had done for him, Harry knew he did owe Snape at least one good Christmas. Afterwards, it might be full-out war, but they would have this one Christmas to look back on and remember all the happiness. Snape should have one happy memory like that.

"Do I want to know how you found out about the spell?" Snape asked quietly.

"No, you don't. It's my secret."

"Would it change your mind if I threatened to spank you?"

"Not really."

"Oh," Snape covered his eyes with a hand. "You're growing up. Kissing in public, no longer responding to threats, making all sorts of demands – when did you start changing from an insecure teenager to _this_?" he motioned at Harry.

"I don't know," Harry tried not to smirk as he reached for the bell to ring for tea. "I guess it was something I had to do."


	23. Choices

**AN: Thanks to Fawkes Song for betaing. It is her birthday, and I wrote this specially for her.**

The next day, Harry was right in the middle of his third piece of buttered toast smeared with marmalade when Snape stalked into the dining room. Snape flung a newspaper down beside Harry's plate and stomped to his own seat.

Harry had enough manners to wipe his hands on his napkin before picking up the newspaper. On the front, in huge letters, the headline read HARRY POTTER MAKES HIS MARK. Underneath was a picture of him grinning with his arm around Luna.

"Let's see. 'Harry Potter, age 16, has finally chosen his destiny and it comes in the shape of one lovely blond witch.' Then there's information about Luna, most of it right. Oh this is charming. 'Perhaps Mr. Potter has put aside his heroics long enough to chase something tangible and real though Ms. Lovegood's character does seem out of touch with reality enough to tempt the wild imagination of Mr. Potter.'"

Harry threw the paper down with a scowl. "Can we sue them?"

Snape just glowered at him.

"I hate the papers," Harry reached for another slice of toast. "Liars, all of them. Though Luna does look good in the snow. Can I have the picture to hang in my room?"

Snape still glowered.

"Oh, come off it," Harry sighed as he scooped out more marmalade, having already emptied half the jar on previous slices. "We were kissing – that's all. If the papers want to make a big deal of it, let them. It's not the worst thing they've ever said about me."

"I don't like it," Snape said. "It's demeaning and puts you back in the limelight. I've worked these last months to make sure they didn't have anything to write about you, and in the space of one afternoon, you dash my efforts to pieces."

"Well, dash me then," Harry replied. "Honestly, no one cares except you. You want me to stay a little boy forever, and I can't do that."

"You're only sixteen. You're not an adult yet, and even once you are, I doubt you'll be capable of making good decisions."

That last bit could have stung, but Harry chose to shrug it out by replying, "I chose you – that was a good decision enough for both of us."

"I'll still be keeping a close eye on you," Snape threatened.

Harry replied by munching rather noisily on the piece of toast.

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On Christmas morning, Harry woke before dawn. He got dressed and took his present for Snape out from under his bed. He crept downstairs and put it under the small tree he had convinced Snape to buy and decorate. So far there were only two gifts under the tree and they were both for the house elves.

Harry had to smile in spite of himself. He had caught Snape looking at him hard every time Harry had glanced at the tree. He knew Snape was longing for him to ask why there weren't any presents under the tree for him, and Snape would get to launch into a tirade about how naughty teenage boys didn't get to have presents and would only get coal and switches for their gifts. So, Harry had made a point not to say anything as he knew full well that Snape would get him something for Christmas.

For his last birthday, Snape had let him have a party and had given him the pocketwatch. There wasn't a chance that Snape would ignore Christmas.

The dawn light finally eased through the gray sky, and Harry could see the light snow falling. Ignoring his cloak, he unlocked the front door and ran out into the frigid air. The cold bit at his nose, ears, and fingers, but he ran around the house a few times to warm himself. He tried to write Happy Christmas in the snow, but it wasn't quite deep enough and he had to content himself with breaking icicles off ledges and railings and throwing them at the trees. They made tremendous snapping sounds when they hit the trees.

Once his chest was sore from breathing in the cold air and his nose began to run and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering, Harry darted back up the steps into the warm manor.

He was stomping snow off his shoes in the mud when he heard Snape coming down the stairs. Harry ran out and opened his mouth to say "Merry Christmas," but he froze at the look which Snape fixed on him.

"Hi," Harry said in a small voice.

No responses.

"I got most of the snow off my shoes," Harry tried.

Snape looked even sterner.

Harry let out a deep breath. "Well, a coat just gets in the way. It wasn't even that cold out there."

If possible, Snape's eyes looked even darker.

"Prehistoric man didn't need coats and neither do I. There is not a shred of scientific fact, Muggle or wizard, that indicates that human beings need to wear coats in December. In fact, in Iceland, it's a long standing practice to run through the snow completely naked and jump into the hot springs."

"Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you want to have Christmas or not?"

"You can't take Christmas from me!"

"Then I suggest you go upstairs, take a hot bath, put on clothes that are not soaked with snow, and come back down immediately."

Harry nodded and walked up the stairs. At the very top, though, he turned and called down, "I'm taking a shower, not a bath!"

Then he sprinted for his room before Snape could come after him.

The hot water did feel good to his numb fingers, and he dressed himself in warm clothes and scrambled back downstairs to have breakfast.

Snape tried to look cross and authoritative, but he looked too contented with Harry's delight over the breakfast (cinnamon sticky buns with loads of gooey icing that Harry loved) and the way the house elves fussed over the young master. Both house elves gave Harry a pair of silver-colored mittens, and he got out of his chair to hug them both.

"I wish I had more to give you," he put his hand in his pocket and drew out two silver Sickles, handing one to each elf.

"Oh, no, Young Master," Nabby said. "Just having you here is a gift enough. Master is so much happier since you came."

"That will be enough," Snape interrupted. "You will each find a gift for yourself under the tree. Enjoy the rest of the day."

Once the meal was over, Harry and Snape went to the family room, and Harry took his gift and handed it to Snape.

"It arrived last night and the owl nearly dropped from exhaustion."

"I thought I heard some banging up in your room," Snape said as he took the gift. In neat precise tears, very Snapish, he unwrapped the gift to reveal three thick, leather-bound books tied together with a crimson ribbon.

"'An updated potions anthology'," Snape read the small card on the front of the top book. "'A must for the potion brewer in your family'."

"I asked around, and they said this was the definitive edition," Harry said. "There are potions in there that were only invented a month ago."

"It's perfect," Snape gave Harry a warm smile, which was not quite as good as a hug, but it would do.

"Now what did you get me?" Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"What makes you think you're getting anything? I don't see any gifts for you under the tree."

"Very funny. Now give it to me."

Snape took out his wand and waved a spell over the tree. Two small gifts appeared under it.

Harry tried not to let his face fall. He supposed at his age, he was really too old for big gifts. Small gifts would be what he would get from now on.

The first gift was a cleaning set for his broom: a small brush, oiled cloths, and a special shiner to make the wood gleam. It was a handsome gift, all tied up in a brown box, but it wasn't exactly what Harry would have wanted for Christmas. But he reminded himself that it was a practical gift, and part of being an adult was accepting practical gifts.

The next box was a book about Quidditch moves and how to best practice them. Harry liked this book better than the cleaning gear, yet he couldn't help feeling disappointed. For his birthday, Snape had given him a pocketwatch with a message carved into it, a beautiful shiny brass pocketwatch that was at least a hundred years old. The watch meant something to Harry – it was something tangible that he could hold and remember how Snape felt about him, how he had become part of a family, who was looking after him now.

"Thank you, these are wonderful," Harry smiled over his gifts, doing his best to look appreciative. "Exactly what I needed."

"You're still a terrible liar," Snape shook his head. "Even after all our lessons, you can't mask your feelings to save your life."

"I really do like them!"

"Oh, hush," Snape took out his wand again. He gave it a swish, and then the family room doors burst open as a brand new broom whooshed into the room. It began twirling and spinning, and Harry went crazy.

He jerked out of his seat with a yell and ran to the new broom, grabbing it with both hands.

"It's the broom I wanted!" he hollered. "The Axle 5000 Broom! I've been looking at in the catalogue. I've been saving up, and you got it for me! But – but you said I didn't need a new one."

"Yes, well . . ." Snape shifted in his chair and refused to say anything else, as if his mumbling was explanation enough.

"You miserable old bastard," Harry laughed. "You just want me to be happy, deliriously happy."

"Language," Snape protested weakly, but Harry was dancing around with his broom.

"The best Christmas ever, though I would have been happy without the broom."

"You would not have. You were distraught a moment ago."

"Because I know you better than anyone," Harry declared. "I knew you'd do something amazing for my first Christmas here."

"Yes, well . . ." Snape trailed off again.

"Ha-ha," Harry hugged the broom one last time. Then impulsively, he threw a leg over it and mounted it.

"Don't you dare," Snape sat up straight. "Don't you dare try to fly that inside."

Harry gave him a wicked look and then flew on the broom out of the room into the hallway. The new broom felt different than his old one. If possible, it was lighter, and it seemed more in touch with his body, responding to the lightest of movements. He didn't have to lean hard to get it to turn; he lifted up one shoulder an inch, and the broom started to veer where he wanted it to go.

"Harry Potter!" Snape roared at him, chasing him into the main entrance of the manor. "Get down immediately."

"But it's so much fun," Harry yelled. Without a second thought, he turned the broom and rode right up the stairs to the second floor.

"I'm not telling you again," Snape said from below.

Harry did a fast U-turn in the hall and came back down the stairs. "Whee!" he grinned. "It's like an amusement park ride."

"Harry," Snape reached for him, but Harry pulled away from his hand.

Then he started going in circles around Snape, edging away every time Snape lunged for him. "It's a like a carousel ride. Round and round. La-la-la! I'm getting dizzy. Wheeeee!"

"That broom will be locked up if you don't stop," Snape threatened.

"Oh, okay," Harry sighed. He yanked the top of the handle up and the broom shot him straight up to the ceiling. Once he got about fifteen feet up, Harry let go and flipped backwards in the air. His shoes landed hard on the floor, but he pulled himself up and gave an exaggerated bow. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!"

Snape, who looked scared half to death marched over, clearly intending to reprimand his delinquent son.

"And the crowd goes wild," Harry held up his arms to an imaginary crowd. "The Potter Wizard has done it again – a perfect move of daring acrobatics. And here's Snape, who inspired Potter to become a daredevil and join the circus. Snape, wave to the crowd."

"If you ever do something that foolish again –"

"Sorry, folks, Snape's a little over-protective. Don't worry – the next stunt will take place outside!"

Harry grabbed his broom and ran to the door.

"Don't you dare go out," Snape bellowed at him. "At least take a coat! When I get my hands on you –"

Harry paused in the doorway. He ran back and threw his free arm around Snape in a quick hug. "Thank you so much, Dad."

Snape seemed to have trouble speaking. "You really must have a – a coat. And no tricks."

Harry grinned and raced for the mud room to snatch his coat.

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Draco came over later in the afternoon, mostly to show off his abundance of gifts from his doting mother. Draco's gifts were very nice, but they didn't hold a candle to Harry's new broom. Draco clamored to ride it, and after pretending to fight with him for a few minutes, Harry let him fly on it. Draco loved it and immediately began to come up with ways to get his mother to buy him one.

They spent most of the afternoon roasting and cracking chestnuts and gobbling down sugared gingerbread.

Draco went home about six, and Snape came in to hand Harry a note. It was from the Weasleys, asking for Harry to come have supper at their house.

"You can come too," Harry said as they went to the fireplace to use the Floo.

"I'll stay here," Snape said.

"But you should come – they wouldn't mind."

"You're very kind, but you'll have a better time without me. No fussing. After such a busy day, I will enjoy putting my feet up and having some strong tea. Come home before eleven."

Harry knew there wasn't any use in arguing, so he ducked into the fireplace and shouted "The Burrow!"

Around the worn table, the Weasley family gathered and Harry was packed in with them. Mrs. Weasley had knitted him a sweater with a great big H on it, and he slipped it on willingly. Ron was all eager to hear about his Christmas, and Harry told him about the broom, careful to gloss over it so Ron wouldn't feel too jealous.

"It's only fair," Harry went on, "that since I got a new broom, you have my Firebolt."

"What?" Ron's eyes went big. "But – but Sirius gave you that broom. You love it."

"Yeah, but he would have wanted me to give it to you since I got a new one," Harry said lightly, sipping the warm coffee Mrs. Weasley passed around. "Besides, with my new broom and you on the Firebolt, we stand a good chance of hanging Slytherin out to dry in the spring. You should have seen Malfoy's face when he saw the new broom."

Ron laughed, and no more was said about brooms though Harry made a mental note to get the Firebolt to Ron as soon as possible.

The talk was lively and entertaining, and before Harry could blink it was almost eleven and Mrs. Weasley was packing him up. She filled his arms with more food than he could possibly ever carry, and he was hugged by the whole family before ducking into the fireplace.

Back at the manor, Snape frowned at all the goodies Harry had brought; he was most disdainful over the pound of chocolate fudge that Mrs. Weasley had wrapped in paper splattered with smiling snowmen.

"She wants to rot your teeth out," Snape tsked over the treats.

"Only in a good way. And I better still have the stuff tomorrow," Harry yawned. "No snitching my candy."

"This is why Christmas is not good for children. Too many treats."

By the time Harry fell into bed around midnight, he could barely keep his eyes open when Snape came in to tell him goodnight.

"You wanted a happy Christmas," Harry squinted up at him. "Did you get your wish?"

"Every day is a happy day with you here," Snape said quietly.

Harry grinned. "Liar. You said I'm too much trouble. I don't listen, I don't follow the rules, I'm far too noisy –"

"I wouldn't have you any other way," Snape's voice sounded very choked up all of a sudden.

Harry burrowed deep into his pillow. "Under all those mean looks, you're just a big softy."

"Go to sleep, you wretched boy."

Snape squeezed his shoulder, and Harry slid into sleep thinking that this really had been the best Christmas of his life.

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By New Year's Eve, most of the snow had melted, and the weather was drab and cold. That morning Harry had found a black owl tapping at his window. It had a note.

_Meet me at 4:00 by the forked tree in between our two houses. _

_Draco_

Harry had crumpled the note in his pocket. Ever since Christmas Day, he had decided against sneaking out to Diagon Alley for New Year's. He still wanted to go, but he couldn't bear to hurt Snape, not after all Snape had done.

He joined Snape at breakfast and asked, "If I put on a disguise tonight, can we go see the fireworks in Diagon Alley?"

Snape flashed him a quick look, but said, "I suppose so. You aren't planning to run off? Shame – I was already outside cutting switches and ordering bars to put over your bedroom window."

"Very funny," Harry replied. "But no running away. I've changed."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Snape muttered, but he couldn't help looking a little proud.

"Can we go at nine?" Harry asked.

"How about eight, and we'll have dinner there as well?"

"Brilliant," Harry nodded. "Can I go flying this afternoon if I stay over our woods?"

"Yes, if you don't do that spiral drop you did yesterday. I nearly got nauseated watching you."

"Aw, the Tornado Twist never hurt anyone," Harry brushed his concern away. "Yes, maybe it broke that one bloke's back, but he wasn't paying attention."

Around three-thirty, Harry bundled up and flew up over the woods. He followed the path that he had taken by mistake over the summer, the path that went for sixteen miles around the property, but he dove down when he spotted the big tree.

Draco was there, waiting for him. "You ready to go?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "I changed my mind. I can't sneak out, not after what Snape's done. Sorry, I'll have to skip out on this one. Maybe next year."

"Oh, don't be such a simpering prat," Draco scoffed at him. "You have to come."

"Believe me, any other time, I would have," Harry insisted, "but not now. I won't hurt him like that – sorry."

He turned to go, but Draco said,

"Oh, I suppose that's fine. I can't blame you. Can we go flying tomorrow?"

"Of course," Harry replied.

"Thanks. Oh, do you mind grabbing my hat?"

Harry glanced down at Draco's wool cap on the ground. As he bent to grab it, he thought it was an odd choice for Draco who never wore caps. As soon as Harry's hand closed around the cap, he felt the yank of a Portkey, and he cursed his stupidity even as the Portkey dragged him down.

A second later, it spit him out in the middle of Diagon Alley. Draco was a split-second behind him.

"You sodder," Harry yelled at him as he lunged for the cap.

Draco whipped out his wand and shouted a spell that disintegrated the cap into pieces.

"Bastard," Harry advanced towards the blond, ready to pummel him to pieces.

"Wait, there are your friends," Draco pointed up ahead where Ron and Hermione were running to them.

"You made it,' Ron grinned.

"No," Harry shook his head, "No, I was tricked into coming. I told Draco I couldn't sneak out on Snape, and he tricked me into grabbing a Portkey."

"Draco!" Hermione scolded, but Ron rolled his eyes.

"What do you expect from a Slytherin?"

"Don't start that, Weasley!"

"I'm going home," Harry said. "I'm going straight home, and I'm telling Snape what really happened. Then I'm sending him after you," he pointed at Draco.

"You'd betray me?" Draco's mouth dropped open.

"In a heartbeat," Harry declared. "Now, where is a Floo I can use?"

"I'll help you find one," Hermione reached for his hand.

At the moment, lightning streaked across the gray sky that was already beginning to darken. Harry lifted his face up.

He saw the lightning split, curve around, and become the black Dark Mark high across the sky. He watched the mouth of the great skull open and the snake come out.

The world seemed to stand still, and the only sound Harry could hear was the beating of his own heart in his ears

He blinked and looked over the alley, just in time to see the black shots of smoke puff out as one Death Eater after another appeared, the masks over their faces. Two, four, eight, ten, fifteen, and more – they appeared so fast Harry lost count.

The world had stopped, and Harry said the only thing he hoped would save him, a plea for help in the midst of incredible odds.

"_Snape_," he whispered.

The marketplace erupted into screams of panic.


	24. Burning

The Death Eaters started forward, and Harry went into action at once. Yanking out his wand, he held it to the closest Death Eater and yelled, "_Stupify_!"

A blinding light shot across the short distance to the Death Eater, but they all had their wands out.

"_Infernio_!" Harry shouted and a wall of fire streaked around in a circle around them, inclosing Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Harry.

Hermione yelled out a protecting curse and the fire blazed for a moment.

Harry looked at Draco wondering if he had anything to do with the fight, but the blond's face was frozen in fear, and Harry guessed that even Draco with a Death Eater father had no clue of the attack.

"Does the hat work?" Harry demanded. "Will it take us back to the manor?"

Draco shook his head mutely, and Ron said, "It was only meant to get you here. I'm sorry, Harry, really."

"I'll deal with both of you later," Harry promised the two boys before grabbing Hermione's hand. "Where's Luna?"

"She's at the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione whispered.

Curses blasted on outside of the circle of fire, but the wall of flames held.

"We only have a few more seconds," Hermione pulled herself up tall, clutching her wand. "Harry, what is our attack?"

In the space of half a second, all the training slammed into Harry: the nights spent evading curses, strengthening his body, reacting to ploys that threatened his safety – hundreds of fighting scenarios pounded into him over hours of hard, brutal work.

"We need a decoy – it's you, Draco."

"Harry," Hermione began, but Harry shook his head.

"They won't kill Draco, and he can pretend that we kidnapped him. I shove Draco to them, then we all spread out over Diagon Alley with the intent of meeting back at the inn in twenty minutes. Draco, you tell them we're going back to Hogwarts to get Dumbledore and the teachers. Ron and Hermione, stay together to direct them away from the inn. I'm going to get Luna. Whoever escapes first, find a way to send a message to Hogwarts and to the Manor, even if you have to use bystanders as messengers."

They all nodded. The flames had begun to die.

"We fight here in Diagon Alley and if it spills out on the streets of London, so be it," Harry decided. "The more attention we attract, the sooner the Ministry will send out their army to stop us and therefore help us."

"We're ready," Ron took Hermione's hand, and she smiled at him with the courage of a woman warrior: proud and resilient.

"Ready, go," Harry shoved Draco forward hard just as the fire died.

"Get them!" Draco yelled as he fell on his knees. "They're going to go warn Dumbledore."

Harry ran, slamming into one Death Eater and knocking him back. Four months of physical training paid off in that moment as Harry grabbed the wand of the next nearest Death Eater and holding each end of the wand, he broke it as he punched both knotted fists into his opponent.

He had to duck the next curse, but instinctively he shot his foot out as he went down, toppling the third Death Eater over.

"_Crucio_!" he heard someone shout.

Harry glanced up to see Hermione fall to the ground, screaming as her body shook with the tremors of the curse. Ron scooped her up and kept running, zigzagging back and forth.

Harry saw Draco, the blond frozen in horror at the expression on Harry's face, but Harry was beyond caring. Hermione's screams rang through his ears, and he could feel the magic mounting in his chest, an untamed beast of rage and fury. He grabbed a fourth Death Eater, grabbing by the wrist and elbow, and Harry brought his knee up as he forced the arm down.

He heard and felt the bone break, and the man screamed, but Harry spun him around, wrapping his hand around the man's throat. He pointed his wand to the man's throat.

"You take one step towards us, and I blow his head open," Harry promised. "I don't take attacks from weak, pathetic Death Eaters anymore. You hide behind masks and throw curses at us like children playing wizards-and-dragons. I'm not wasting my energy on you anymore. You tell Voldemort that if he wants me dead, he better have the balls to come face me himself and fight me straight-on. Otherwise, I'm breaking your bones one by one and sending you back to him like a box of broken matches."

"We'll fight you here," a Death Eater threatened. "You can't hold us all off."

"I have enough power to make this entire street explode," Harry's voice was cold and deadly. "You don't think I would sacrifice myself to destroy all of you? You obviously haven't been watching me the last few years."

"We will get you," a female Death Eater spoke, and Harry was certain he recognized the voice.

"I'll tell you what, Bellatrix," Harry said. "Once I kill Voldemort, you and I can have it out on the battlefield where I can strangle you and watch you die just like the weak bitch you are."

His taunting worked. She shrieked and raised her wand at him, but Harry pushed his whimpering captive forward, raising a foot to slam into the back of the Death Eater in a vicious kick that sent the broken man sprawling. Harry raised his wand and shouted out an exploding curse that ripped a hole in the wall behind him. It was vaguely reminiscent of the time he tore a hole in Snape's study wall last summer, but this time, Harry ran into the hole before the dust and debris could settle.

He kept running, blowing holes in the wall as he went, a bizarre way of free-running or Parkoy in which he simply removed objects in his way rather than run over them. As he ran through houses and shops, people yelled at him, but the dozen trailing Death Eaters alarmed everyone far more than Harry's antics. He glanced out the window at one time, and could see turmoil out on the streets.

"You're pathetic!" He shouted back at his pursuers. "Slow and stupid. You think Voldemort could come up with a better army than this pack of misfits."

A death curse whizzed over his head, but Harry dove left. He dashed three huge steps and jumped, slamming into the front window of a clothing store. Jumping through glass was a new sensation for Harry, and before he could decide if it felt too weird, his feet slammed onto the street of Diagon Alley and he was running again.

The melting snow was slippery, but Harry had practiced in snow before. He remembered several unpleasant nights when Snape had frozen the floor of the practice room in the dungeon and scattered snow everywhere before making Harry dash around it, chased by Bludgers and biting dragonflies the size of cricket balls. Harry had soon learned that running through slippery snow was all a matter of propelling himself forward, going so fast that any slipping began another way of pushing forward faster. He felt certain that he could run up the side of Hogwarts' steepest roof covered in ice and not fall.

The Death Eaters tried to follow him, but they were adults relying on magic to fight and Harry was a teenage boy who had been ruthlessly trained by a power-hungry potion master. Speed was on Harry's side, and he darted into the other side of the street and started blowing holes into the shops on that side before running through the rumble.

He had almost reached the inn when Harry whirled around and fired a spell at the hole he had just made: "_Repario_."

The wall resealed itself, blocking out the Death Eaters still in pursuit. Harry dashed out into the street and ducked into the next building, running fast through all the chaos and screaming in the street as all the wizards and witches panicked.

"All right, all right," Harry drew in one long breath and blew it out hard. "Think. Think, Potter, think."

He had nothing with him other than his wand, clothes, and a winter coat. His wand looked fine though his clothes were coated with dust, snow, and grime. He had dropped his broom back in the woods before he had touched the portkey.

"Improvise," Harry shrugged off his coat. He was standing in a cauldron store, empty of course, but he grabbed the tan tablecloth off a display table. Harry tucked his wand in the leather wand holder that Ron had given him for his birthday, the holder that Harry had started wearing in his early training days as it never let his wand slip loose as he ran. He looped the tablecloth over his head and shoulders like a cloak.

He went out into the street hunching over and running into the crowd of screaming people.

"Who's attacking us?" a woman shrieked beside him. "Who is it? Who is it?"

"Death Eaters and Dementors," Harry lowered his voice to a growl as he hobbled along. "Run, run for your lives."

The chaos increased, people banging into each other and grabbing each other to demand what was going on, but Harry used the erratic movements to keep going forward, jerking back and forth to navigate around people.

Screaming broke out behind him at a higher level, and Harry knew that the Death Eaters were in the street now, looking for him.

Harry kept his hobbling pace, determined not to make a run for the inn. Twenty steps more, and he would be inside. Five steps closer, and he slipped his wand out. He pointed it to the side and whispered, "_Serpensortia_."

A six-foot cobra shot out of his wand and hit the snow-splattered ground.

"Move and intimidate," Harry whispered to it in Parceltongue.

The snake hissed, and the screaming chaos rose to a frightening decibel as people began to panic that the Dark Lord was coming to reap souls.

Harry ran into the inn and started for the stairs. He went up three flights of stairs and paused at the third door he found closed. Lifting up his right foot, he kicked out with his dragon-hide boots, boots that Snape had bought him so Harry would finally get rid of his dirty sneakers though Harry had just hid them under his bed. But these boots were strong and heavy, and the lock splintered through the wood as the door flew open.

The room was empty, but Harry flung the tablecloth on the bed and started grabbing items that he could use as weapons: a heavy brass candlestick, a bottle of firewhiskey, a folded sheet, and two legs of a wooden chair that Harry broke against the wall to shatter into pieces. In deft, precise knots, he tied the items into a bundle and twisted the loose ends until he could tie them around his chest, turning the bundle into a backpack.

He ran out into the hallway and shouted "Luna! Luna, where are you?"

No answer came, so Harry ran up to the next floor of rooms. "Luna?"

"Harry?" Luna stepped out at the end of the hall, her eyes wide in her small face. "Harry, what is going on?"

"We're under attack. Stay near me," Harry ordered, motioning to his side. "Do you have your wand?"

Luna pulled it out.

"Keep your shoulder next to mine and move with me," Harry pulled her close. "If we get separated, find somewhere to hide where no one will find you and wait. Wait for hours if you have to."

"I plan to fight beside you."

"I want you safe and alive at the end of the fight," Harry insisted. "We're going down the stairs slowly."

They made it down to the next level, but someone was coming up the stairs. Harry pulled Luna into the room he had broken into, and they flattened themselves against the wall, waiting.

"Please, Ron, don't go so fast," Hermione's voice pleaded.

"I'm fine," Ron wheezed.

Harry leaned out of the room and waved them both in. Hermione held her left arm against her chest; her arm was limp and hanging at an odd angle. But Ron's face was red and swollen, and Harry could see the long bleeding gash on the right side that ran from his nose all the way across to his right ear.

"We gave them a good chase," Ron leaned back against the wall, gasping. "After they tortured her with Crucio, I carried her a few feet. But they were right behind us. Then Hermione found the strength to pull half a building down on them. But her arm's broken and one curse hit my face."

"Luna, find another sheet to make a sling," Harry said. "Hermione, we're going to tie your arm up until we can get you to Madame Pomfrey or to St. Mungo's. Ron, I want you to stay with the girls while I go out to fight."

"Hell, no," Hermione lifted her head up even as she grimaced with pain. "We fight together."

"Just like always," Ron nodded.

"You need us, Harry," Luna said softly as she ripped the sheet in half.

"No, I'm faster without you. Snape's been training me, and you would just slow me down."

"No," Hermione held her broken arm out with her good arm, her face set, "we got you this far. Everything we've been through – we always were a team. You, me, and Ron."

"We can add Luna and Draco if you like," Ron said, "but we fight together. You can lead, but we'll be right behind you, watching your back."

"You're injured," Harry gave it his last shot. "If you get hurt worse –"

"If we fall out there, you leave us behind," Ron evenly met Harry's gaze. "You go on and finish it. That way we won't die in vain."

For a horrible second, Harry felt his eyes prickle at Ron's loyalty, at his friend's unwavering faith. Before he could say anything, they heard more footsteps and Draco's call, "Harry? Ron? Anyone?"

"Here," Harry waved to him, and Draco ran into the room.

"Why are you all sitting here? A war has started. The Death Eaters are all here. The Mark is in the sky. Everyone is running for their lives. Guess I was a big enough idiot to come back."

"What do we do?" Hermione ducked her head so Luna could loop the sling around her neck, pulling her bandaged arm against her chest. "Harry, what's our plan?"

"I just need a minute," he said. "Just a second to figure this out."

"So pretty," Luna stepped away from Hermione and stared right at the lit candelabra. "I love the way the flame keeps burning and burning, hot and bright. That's the thing about light, you know – it doesn't have to chase away the darkness. It simply exists and darkness disappears."

"Harry?" Ron raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"She's right," Harry nodded. "It's the only way."

"What's the only way?" Draco asked. "Do you always talk in code like this?"

"The fire," Harry nodded towards the flames. "We set Diagon Alley on fire."

Ron's jaw dropped open.

"Starting with the Leaky Cauldron," Harry went on. "We set it on fire and we either fight on the street or we take it out into London. No more hiding. We force them out into the light."

Luna held up her wand, lazily waving it in the air. "_Incendio_," she said softly, almost dreamily.

The bed caught on fire.

Hermione pointed out her wand with her good hand. "_Engorgio_."

The bed and the four posts and the curtains and the wall caught on fire.

"We go in pairs, setting fire and enlarging it," Harry said. "Luna and Draco, Hermione and Ron. I'll keep lookout and gather weapons."

They went down the hall, casting the spells. Two minutes later, the whole hallway blazed with flames, the heat impressive as it came closer and closer.

They ran downstairs, into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Let me," Draco aimed his wand at the bar where a wine rack was packed with various bottles and flagons. "_Incendio_!"

The spell slammed through the room as the alcohol caught fire and blew glass into the air. Harry had grabbed a table and held it up to shield them from the explosion, but he felt the hot air sweep over his hands.

Luna and Hermione cast spells to spread the flames fast, but Harry slipped off the bundle on his back and drew out the two broken chair legs. "Here," he gave one to Ron and one to Draco, "tie strips of cloth to the end of these and pour alcohol," Harry uncorked the bottle, "on the cloth. Then you have the fire and we can spend all our magic on building the fire."

The room was so hot Harry could barely breathe, but he helped Ron and Draco fix the chair legs.

They all huddled together as they stepped outside into the cold air.

The streets were deserted. Broken carts and scattered papers lay over the snow and mud that caked the stone streets. Windows were broken; chunks of wall lay fallen in dust. Far down the street, Harry could see the gap where Hermione must have toppled the building. Several animals lay dead. A severed arm was lying on the ground and a trail of blood followed it.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione asked.

Harry could feel the heat at his back. He shoved down the nagging voice inside that implied it was a mistake to set the inn on fire. This was no time to start doubting himself.

"Keep burning," he told his friends. "They're here somewhere, waiting for us."

Ron and Draco had barely started burning down the next two shops when dark shapes appeared at the end of the street.

Death Eaters – at least fifty of them – and at the center, tall and ugly, Voldemort.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand. So low that only he could hear it, he said, "I make my own destiny. And I choose to fight."

He took a step forward.

Then all around him, sharp snaps filled the air. Tonks was beside him, then Lupin. Dumbledore appeared and with him McGonagall. Arthur and Molly Weasley, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Oliver Wood, more Hogwarts teachers, and then a score of people whom Harry had never seen before.

Right in front of the hotel, Snape Apparated. Moretta arrived beside him a second later.

Moretta pointed her wand at her face and said, "_Finite Incantatum_."

Like paper crumbling to ash in fire, her hard beauty disappeared, and she grew older and more familiar. And then Harry found himself staring at Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother.

"We end this, for my children," Augusta wore an expression of calm, murderous rage as she stood beside Snape.

Harry turned back to the approaching Death Eaters. He had a whole army behind him that evenly matched the number of his enemy.

Behind his army, the roof of the Leaky Cauldron fell in, sending sparks and waves of heat across Diagon Alley.


	25. Rage

The crackling of flames grew louder. High above, the sky grew dark and yellow as if a tornado would soon approach, a color Harry felt promised nothing but evil.

He waited for a signal, a sign that they should start, and then he thought that he himself was the sign.

With a growl of pure rage, he started across the street running straight for Voldemort.

"Stop, Harry!" Snape yelled somewhere behind him.

But Harry would not stop, could not. His anger seemed to levitate himself a few feet off the ground, and the entire world went silent as he ran straight for the enemy that had killed his parents, tortured his friends, and slaughtered innocent lives. In that silence, Harry had never felt more sure of himself, sure of what he was doing, ready to plow down evil and ensure that after today, Voldemort never killed again. It was a beautiful, enraging feeling.

He could see Voldemort now, the ugly creature holding out his wand, his eyes glinting with malice. The last time Harry had seen him this closely, he was standing over Cedric's body. Bellatrix stood beside Voldemort, her mask off. She had killed Sirius, laughed as he died.

Harry raised his wand, but before he could shout out a single spell, a crack of lightning blew across Diagon Alley. The earth rumbled, and then quaked so hard that Harry toppled to his knees. He expected to have the Death Eaters on him in a second, but he saw them struggle for balance and a few of them falling as well. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had caused the quake, but he didn't allow himself time to think. He pulled himself to his feet to face Voldemort.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort smiled. "You come to face me with an army. Surrender to me, give yourself up, and I will spare the lives of all your friends. Fight me and I will torture them to death."

Harry smiled back just as coldly. "Surrender to me, Voldemort, and I'll kill you quickly."

Harry could feel his entire army drawing close, but he stood feet away from Voldemort, vulnerable to a single death stroke from any of the Death Eaters. But Harry planned to meet his end head-on, face-first. He would not cower before death, but hold his head high.

"My wand does not work against yours," Voldemort said. "So I have borrowed another's wand. _Avada Keda_-"

A sound snapped beside Harry, and he barely had time to recognize Snape before the man wrapped his arms around Harry and they Apparated.

Once Snape let go, Harry stumbled to a standstill in a small room. From the light and sounds coming from the one window, he guessed Snape had taken him to a room on the other side of Diagon Alley, to a building still standing and not on fire.

"Are you mad?" he yelled at Snape. "Take me back. We have to fight. They'll get slaughtered without me."

Another snap, and Augusta Longbottom appeared.

"You said you were going to wait," she spoke to Snape. "You said it would only be a last resort. My grandson is out there –"

"I know. But I can't watch him try to kill Harry," Snape was rolling up his sleeves. "We do it now, Augusta, and then we leave him up here."

"What is going on?" Harry demanded. "Are you under the Imperius Curse?"

"You'll understand later," Snape promised. He took out a knife and pressed the tip to his wrist. A single drop of blood appeared. "Your wrist."

Without hesitation, Harry put out his wrist, tugging up both his sleeves to the elbow. He had no idea of what Snape was planning, but he assumed it must be worthwhile to keep them in here while the battle raged outside. He could hear the sound of spells whizzing through the air and the yells and screams of pain.

Snape pressed the knife to his wrist – a moment of pain – and then the blood appeared.

"I got Portkey-ed here by accident," Harry said in a rush as Snape used the knife on Augusta's wrist. "I didn't mean to, but Draco and Ron tricked me. Then the Death Eaters showed up."

"Did you set the buildings on fire?"

"Yes, to attract attention."

"Good boy," Snape slipped the knife back in his pocket; he raised his wrist and motioned for Harry to do the same.

"How did you get here so fast?" Harry put his wrist up and their blood mingled together.

"The pocketwatch I gave you for your birthday, the one you carry with you? It's equipped with a magical marker so I know where you are at all times," Snape then pressed his bleeding wrist to Augusta's.

"Still spying on me," Harry shook his head with a smile as he pressed his blood to Augusta's. "Did you alert Hogwarts?"

"Yes. All right, the mixing of the blood is complete. Augusta?"

"Time for the exchange," Augusta grabbed Harry's hand and Snape's. Snape grabbed Harry's other hand so they stood in a circle of three. Augusta and Snape both moved their wands to their right hands, and Harry did the same so that there was a wand in each of the clasped hands.

Augusta began to speak the rite in Latin. Harry had never heard it before, but he recognized certain words: power, sacrifice, loyalty, privilege. Then she paused.

"I accept," Snape said, his voice firm. He looked at Harry. "Say you accept."

Harry thought about voicing his confusion and uncertainty, but he heard himself say, "I accept."

"The participants accept," Augusta said in a blank tone. "Here they give themselves willingly. Let the rite finish."

The room was silent. Harry suddenly felt silly, holding hands with two adults in a circle. Then his wand began to glow.

The tip glowed at first, then the whole length, and it was pulsing magic in spurts. Snape's wand did the same and Augusta's and a ring of light shone through the wands, going right through the torso of all three of them.

The magic grew stronger and stronger. The windows began to clatter, the floor shook, and the magic felt like an electric current.

Without warning, pain shot through Harry's forehead, right around the scar. It was so sudden, so awful, he screamed and tried to raise his right hand, but Snape held it down, squeezing his fingers in a vice-like grip.

"Hold still – it won't last long."

"Ah –ah," Harry tried to clench his teeth to stop from screaming. His forehead burned with pain. It felt like his scar was being cut out with a knife. It dug deeper and deeper – the torment was unbearable.

"Harry, I'm here, right beside you," Snape promised. "Listen to my voice – concentrate on my voice. Remember last summer. Think about something we did last summer."

Harry tried, but the pain was pushing out every thought he had. His world had narrowed down to the torture, the feeling of having his forehead cut apart.

The pain lessened slightly (or perhaps he had just learned to take it) when his left lower arm began to burn. The underside of his arm grew hotter and hotter, and he squirmed trying to ride the pain out. He had shut his eyes long ago, and he stood in darkness, holding the two hands for dear life and trying to ride out the agony.

The pain in his forehead stopped, vanishing as if it had never hurt before, but his arm kept hurting and burning until it reached a crescendo of hot-white pain that had him gritting his teeth and groaning between them in torment.

The pain receded from his arm, but it kept up a steady throb, aching like a recent wound.

Harry opened his eyes and peered down at his arm. There on his arm, like a new tattoo, was the Death Mark. He stared at the skull with the snake slithering out of the mouth, not believing that it was on his arm.

"It has to be an exchange of marks," Snape said quietly.

With dread, Harry looked up. There on Snape's forehead was the lightning-like scar, the scar that Harry had seen every time he looked in the mirror, only in the mirror it was backwards. But he would know that scar anywhere.

Harry reached up to touch his own forehead, but his skin felt smooth. He couldn't feel the slight raise of scarred skin, the jagged line that reminded him of his parents' death every time he touched it.

"What are you –" Harry never got to finish his sentence.

"_Stupefy_!" Augusta hit him with the spell. Harry felt his body go rigid and he fell back.

Snape caught him before he could hit the ground and slowly lowered him back on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said to Harry. "It's the only way I could figure to keep you safe. I don't mind – really I don't. I can do more this way. If I have the scar, I can fight him and that way you aren't at risk."

"We don't have time, Severus," Augusta looked out the window before flinging something towards Snape.

"Someday when you have your own children, you'll understand," Snape said. He shook out the object, and Harry recognized his Invisibility Cloak. "You've been a great son for this last half year. I'm sorry I won't be here to watch you grow into the man you were meant to be. I'll always love you."

Snape gave him the saddest smile in the world and then covered him up with the Cloak.

"No, Snape, stop," Harry screamed inside his head, unable to move his mouth. "Let me go. Don't – don't! I won't let you do it – I won't let him kill you. Please, please, please, please."

Through the cloak, Harry saw Snape and Augusta walk to the door. Snape looked back at him though Harry knew he couldn't see anything.

"Goodbye, Harry," the man said. He left.

Still under the body-bind, Harry tried to concentrate on breathing, an automatic reflex that worked under the spell. He couldn't believe Snape would do this to him, decide to take Harry's place to fight Voldemort. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't Snape's choice to make. Snape didn't get to decide who fought and who died and who took whose mark to fight.

Harry tried to move, but the spell still stuck. It reminded him of early last summer when Snape had decided that he needed a nap and immobilized him in bed. Harry had been furious at Snape then, but Snape had known then that the stupid fireplace had made Harry sick. Snape always knew things and never told Harry – how long had Snape been planning to take Harry's scar and fight Voldemort himself?

Harry's eyes filled with tears, and they brimmed until they obscured his vision and trickled down the edges of his face to his ears. He felt betrayed by Snape, not because Snape had gone to the evil side, but because Snape had thought Harry would just want to go along with it. Snape really was the ultimate bastard.

"Stop it, stop it," Harry told himself firmly. "Stop crying. Concentrate on moving. This can't last forever. _Finite Incantatem._ Move your fingers, move your legs. _Finite Incantatem_."

Nothing happened, but Harry kept concentrating on moving and on repeating the spell in his head over and over again. It was madly frustrating, not being able to move his own body, but he refused to give up.

Several long minutes passed, and then he felt his finger twitch. He worked on that hand, the one that held the wand. He willed the magic to move, wanting the binding spell to diminish faster. The moment his mouth loosened, he spoke the words aloud, "_Finite Incantatem."_

The binding spell fell away considerably, enough for Harry to sit up but not to stand. Grasping his wand, he bellowed the words again as loud as he could. The rest of the spell fell away, and Harry staggered to his feet.

"You better be alive, Severus Snape," he pulled the Cloak around his shoulders, "because I intend to kick your sorry behind all over this alley."

The door was shut and locked from the outside, but Harry leaned to the side and delivered a roundhouse kick right by the lock. The old wood shook violently, but the door didn't break. Harry kicked it again – it groaned loudly, and on the third kick, his foot went through the door. He pulled his foot out and reached through the splintered hole and unlocked the knob.

He ran down the stairs and outside into the cold.

The whole street was full of fighting, spells and curses blasting through the open air and slamming into the remaining buildings. The fight had moved away from the Leaky Cauldron which was blazing like an inferno. Several people lay dead on the ground, but Harry didn't stop to find out who they were. Up ahead, Ron and Hermione had cornered Bellatrix against the wall while she screeched obscenities at them.

"No, wait," a voice came behind Harry. Neville ran up to stand beside Ron and Hermione. "I get to kill her. She tortured my parents, made them mad." He squared his shoulders and faced Bellatrix. "You're the reason I didn't have parents."

Harry had stopped, thinking he should help to end Bellatrix, but Neville's words made him reconsider. Bellatrix belonged to Neville – she was his enemy as much as she was Harry's.

"Oh, look, it's a sad puppy," Bellatrix put her head to the side sympathetically. "Do you know that your mother asked to die in your place? She begged me to kill her and spare you, but I made sure her last moments of sanity were hearing me say that I would kill her baby. She went crazy knowing I would come after you next."

Neville said nothing. He reached forward and grabbed Bellatrix by the neck, and she screamed. Harry had never realized how tall Neville had gotten – he still seemed the clumsy, accident-prone boy who had arrived at Hogwarts five and a half years ago. But the man that reached out to choke Bellatrix was neither clumsy nor accident-prone.

"I'll kill you fast," Neville promised, pulling out a short dagger, "because it's what my parents would have wanted."

Harry turned and started running down the alley. He knew Neville would kill her, and while it would have been satisfying to watch Bellatrix die after all the evil she had committed, Harry knew he had to go find Snape first.

The fight had spread down Knockturn Alley as well, and more wizards had appeared. Delores Umbridge was battling Professor Trelawney in one side alley, shooting burning curses at the Divinations teacher.

"Ooo, that's what you get for resisting," Umbridge said in her high, girlish voice. "I'll have to punish you before I kill you."

Trelawney tried to defend herself, tried to shoot back spells, but Umbridge's next shot caught her across the middle, and the teacher fell to the ground. Harry saw the back of her shirt ripped open, the blood seeping through the pale skin.

"A little birdie's hurt," Umbridge giggled. "Time to die quietly, my dear, like all bad people should."

Harry ripped off his Cloak, pointed his wand at Umbridge, and shouted, "_Crucio_!"

Never would he have believed the satisfaction that tore through him as he watched Umbridge fall against the building and scream in pain as she shook. Almost sick with his fury at her, Harry stood over her, watching her writhe with the torture.

"You finally got what was coming to you, you ugly cow," Harry said. "How does that feel? Does it feel good? Does it help you remember to be a better person, to not tell lies?"

Umbridge was gurgling, her mouth frothing. Harry grabbed her wand out of her hand and broke it against the building. "_Finite Incantatem_," Harry said, and Umbridge slumped to the ground.

McGonagall ran into sight. "What is – Mr. Potter – what have – Umbridge!"

"Professor," Harry handed her the broken wand, "can I trust you to help Professor Trelawney and get this evil hag where she belongs?"

"You can more than trust me, Potter," McGonagall firmly pocketed the wand. "You can consider it my utmost pleasure. But where are –"

"I'm going to find Snape and Voldemort," Harry swung his Cloak back on.

"Wait," McGonagall objected, "it's too dangerous. Oh, where did he go with that silly Cloak? Easy, easy, Sybill. Umbridge, if you try to move, I'll transfigure you into a mouse for me to chase."

Harry couldn't help but smile as he ran again. Trust McGonagall to hold her own.

At the end of Knockturn Alley, the street was dark and empty. Harry thought Snape might have Apparated somewhere else, but a movement inside a shop caught his eye.

Harry ran right up to the window and slammed his shoulder into it. As the glass splintered, he stepped inside and pulled off his Cloak.

Snape and Voldemort faced each other inside the shop, wands drawn.

"Go, Harry," Snape ordered, "this isn't your fight anymore."

"Just because I lost the scar doesn't mean I'm no longer in this fight," Harry braced himself beside Snape. "This has always been my fight no matter how much you try to stop me."

"Then two will die tonight instead of one," Voldemort smiled.

"Or just one ugly half-dead freak," Harry grinned. "_Alohamora_!"

He ducked as the desk he had spelled whizzed over his head and slammed into Voldemort. Voldemort had aimed a curse at Snape, but it went off target as the desk hit him. Snape reached for Voldemort's wand, but before he could get it, Nagini shot out of a pile of rubble, hissing fiercely.

Snape drew back from the snake, but Harry eyed it warily.

"Touch him," he told the snake in Parceltongue, "and I will kill you."

Nagini raised herself up in the air, swaying slightly, and then lunged for Snape. Harry grabbed its tail and whipped the snake back, bashing it against the wall. The snake flopped down and zigzagged dizzily on the floor.

"I said not to touch," Harry hissed.

Voldemort sneered as he stood, his wand clutched firmly. "Time to end the party."

Then three things happened at once.

Harry leapt forward and shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!"

Snape flung his wand out and yelled, "_Diffindo_."

But Voldemort had pointed his wand at Snape and yelled, "_Avada Kedavra_."

Light burst out of their wands – Voldemort's a reddish tint, Snape's green, and Harry's slightly blue. But the three lights converged and then rushed towards Snape.

The moment the lights hit him, the shop exploded with lightning and sound, so strong Harry fell to his knees again. Snape caught on fire and then the fire filled the room and exploded again.

Heavy smoke filled the room, the smell of sulfur and ash, but Snape was gone.

"Snape?" Harry whirled around. "Snape, where are you?"

No answer came.

Harry looked at Voldemort. "Where did he go? What did you do to him?"

Voldemort grinned and picked something up off the ground. It took Harry a moment to figure out what it was: a thin strip of skin with blood on one side and a jagged scar on the other.

"You killed him," Harry said so softly he wondered if he was even speaking. "You killed Snape."

"No, my boy," Voldemort laughed, "we killed him. Our magic together, stronger than his. He really was a weak, pathetic man, a waste of space and magic. He should have died long ago. Why did Dumbledore ever pick such a useless guardian for his precious prince?"

Harry felt something screaming inside him, something that kept tripping and picking itself up, stronger and angrier each time it fell.

"Yes, I knew," Voldemort smiled, stroking his wand fondly. "Snape revealed it early in the summer. You were staying with him, and he planned to keep you with him. I wanted to go after you then, but Snape said Dumbledore was watching too closely. So he agreed to bring you to me at New Year's. I didn't expect him to fight on the other side, but he did get you here, so I only planned to torture him a while before I killed him. But now he's gone."

"You've done it," Harry realized. "You've taken away everything I cared about again. I don't know what motivates you to hurt others like this, but I'm here right now to make sure you never get the power you want. I'm still not dead."

Harry dove to the side and grabbed the visible tail of the snake. He heard the death curse fly over his head, but Harry bashed Nagini's head against the wall to stun the snake. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out the pocket watch and chain, yanking the end free from his belt loop.

He stood up and flung a disarming spell at Voldemort which missed, but Harry dropped back down and looped a tightening noose around the snake's head. He stood again, keeping his foot on the snake's head and holding the end of the chain so that the speed of his standing up tightened the chain around the snake and then completely cut off the snake's head.

Blood spurted everywhere, and Voldemort screamed, "Nagini! What have you done to my snake?"

"Same thing I'm going to do to you," Harry leapt up, the snake's decapitated head in his hand. Nagini had died with her fangs out, sharp and deadly, and Harry angled the fangs away from his wrist as he ran towards his worst enemy.

Voldemort threw a curse at him, and Harry felt the Cruciatus Curse hit as he tackled the older man. The torture curse splintered pain through his body, but Harry used his last remaining strength to jam the two fangs into Voldemort's neck.

Voldemort stumbled back, and Harry went with him, caught in a grotesque death hug as Harry shook with pain, but kept the fangs in Voldemort's neck. They sprawled on the floor, Harry's elbow and arm on Voldemort's chest while Harry's legs flopped in pain on the floor.

Voldemort reached for his wand, but Harry head-butted, crashing his forehead against Voldemort's face and what was left of Voldemort's nose.

Harry screamed his loudest, unable to bear the Cruciatus Curse a moment longer, but he knew that the spell could not last forever. He was stronger than the pain – Snape had trained him to ignore pain and keep going, keep fighting, keep enduring until the end.

"Damn you," Harry dug the fangs into Voldemort's neck another inch. "I don't care if we both die here tonight – we will be rid of you once and forever."

Harry grabbed Voldemort's wand and threw it across the room. The man was frothing at the mouth as the poison worked inside him.

Harry drew himself up and grabbed his wand. With both hands around it, he drew the wand up and stabbed it down in Voldemort's chest, driving it right into his heart.

Dark magic slammed through the room, throwing Harry off and breaking the other windows. Voldemort writhed on the ground, gurgling curses, but it was too late for him.

In the murky shadows of the abandoned shop, Harry watched Voldemort die on the ash-littered floor. When the great, ugly body lay still, Harry pulled himself up, wincing at the last remains of the Cruciatus curse. He limped over to Voldemort's body and yanked his wand out of Voldemort's chest. It was slick with dark red blood. Harry pointed his wand down.

"_Incendio_," he gasped.

Voldemort's clothes caught fire, and Harry kept feeding the flames pieces of wooden furniture until the room blazed with fire. He added the snake's body to the fire and once the floor started to burn as well, Harry limped back out into the alley.

The streets were empty until he reached Diagon Alley. There he saw that the fight had finished – the Ministry having shown up to quell and round up the rest of the Death Eaters. Everyone was clamoring and talking until they saw Harry.

Silence spread over the crowd like a wave as Harry limped towards them. The crowd parted and Ron and Hermione ran for him. They held him up, Hermione supporting him with her good arm.

"What happened?" they asked him.

"Voldemort's dead – I killed him," Harry held out Voldemort's wand.

"Voldemort's dead," Ron yelled towards the crowd, grabbing the wand from Harry and holding it up high.

The cheering from the crowd was deafening – it almost felt like the buildings were howling in victory.

"Harry?" Hermione put a hand on his dirty, sooty face.

"Snape died," Harry said. Something swelled inside him, and he was only dimly aware that tears were pouring down his face, and he looked down to see his blood dripping onto the dirty street.

He was so tired and he couldn't walk anymore and he wanted to be alone and he never wanted to be alone.

Dumbledore was in front of him, and then a soft light was around Harry, carrying him off to a quiet, dreamless sleep.


	26. Gone

AN: Thank you all for reviewing and giving me so much enthusiasm and encouragement and criticism and advice throughout this story installment. I've loved hearing from all of you. And thanks to my ever faithful beta, Fawkes Song, for all her hard work in finding all my mistakes. I appreciate it all so much.

HP& HP& HP& HP& HP& HP& HP& HP

Harry gradually came awake, aware that he was lying in a bed. He opened his eyes to find himself in the hospital wing, lying in the very last bed. Other people were lying in them as well.

Harry sat up, and immediately the nurse hurried over.

"No, now lay back down," she said in a soft voice as she pressed him back down into the pillow. "You're weak and still healing."

"Snape?" Harry was surprised at the hoarseness of his voice and how much his throat ached. "Did anyone find Snape?"

"Just rest for now," Madame Pomfrey tried to get him to be quiet.

"I'm not going to rest a second until I know," Harry looked straight at her.

"No one's found him," she put a hand on his shoulder. "You were the last to see him so you know better than anyone what happened."

"How long have I been sleeping?" Harry asked, feeling dread mounting in his chest.

"Since yesterday. The whole wizarding world has been turned upside down. There's going to be a celebration later, but I won't let you attend unless you rest for now."

"I don't care about celebrating – I just want Snape back." Harry rolled on his side.

Pomfrey made no comment; she spread another blanket on him and went to check on other patients.

Harry stared at the wall, trying to come to terms with what he had seen happen to Snape. He remembered the look on Snape's face right before the three lights hit him, that astonished surprise. The way Snape had looked on fire – his mouth open in a silent scream. Then the explosion and Snape was gone.

Unbidden, Harry felt the tears slide down his cheeks. He didn't make a sound; he just let the tears come. The last time he had been in the hospital, after pretending to be sick to get away from Moretta, Snape had come up and been so worried, so frantic that something bad had happened to Harry. What had Snape promised after that? If Harry ever ended up in the hospital, Snape would stand by his bed until he got better and then soundly wallop him every day for a week for getting hurt.

At the time, that had been yet another thing for Harry to worry about: getting hurt and having Snape find out. But now, as he lay alone in the bed, he would have given anything to have Snape stand beside him. If Snape would just come through the door, stomp over, "What have you done to yourself? I swear, Harry, you find more trouble to get into. What am I going to do with you?"

That was the unbearable part. After years of having no one to look after him, he had found Snape's protectiveness slightly annoying. Harry had chafed under the restrictions, and he thought Snape really should understand that at sixteen he wasn't a completely helpless child. But now that he had lost the one person who took care of him, who really cared about what happened to him, who was all concerned about his physical, mental, and emotional well-being – it was too much.

Harry wanted the ache to stop, wanted the pain to go away. It was awful, overwhelming and brutal, to miss someone this much.

"There, there," Pomfrey was back, her voice concerned as she hovered over him. "You're upsetting yourself. No more crying – just deep breaths. I'm going to give you something to help you rest."

She brought a spoonful of medicine close to him, holding it out so he could swallow it. Harry stared at the spoon, flooded with memories of all the potions Snape had given him. The medicine when he was sick at the Manor in the early summer, the potion to help him warm up after he had snuck out to meet Moretta, the health drinks to help him build up his body so he could become the warrior that Snape wanted him to be. The tears came hard and fast until Harry couldn't see anything. But he leaned forward and took it.

A few minutes later he fell asleep, still crying.

The next day was awful. The whole school was celebrating, and presents and gifts and food kept arriving at the school as a week-long holiday was instated. Special guests arrived, eager to meet Harry, but he stayed in the hospital wing, under Pomfrey's strict orders that he stay calm and not get excited. Ron and Hermione came to stay with him. Hermione's arm was still healing, but Ron bore the scar across his face.

"It might never heal," Ron said cheerfully as he sat on the end of Harry's bed and ate candy. "I'll always have a battle wound, proof of my bravery in this last war. Not bad, I think. Could be worse, like Draco."

"Ron," Hermione shook her head.

"What happened to Draco?" Harry asked numbly.

Ron looked at Hermione before proceeding cautiously, "He jumped in front of Luna. His father was there and aimed a deforming curse at her. Draco just stepped up and tried to deflect it. It hit him in the left eye. He lost the eye and Pomfrey couldn't heal it up because of the dark magic behind it."

"Where is he now?"

"Draco's mother came to get him," Hermione said. "She made him come home, and she's not letting him come back. Luna was fine, just a few scrapes."

"What about Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"Neville killed Bellatrix," Ron's expression became awe-inspired as he remembered. "He took that dagger and just –"

"Mr. Weasley!" Pomfrey scolded from across the hospital room.

"Well, she's dead," Ron went on. "Mad-Eye showed up and he got killed early on. They rounded up the Death Eaters for trial. I think Dumbledore is in charge of that. The whole world is changed, and we're heroes, mate."

The hospital door opened, and Harry jerked his head towards it, hoping for the hundredth time that Snape would come walking in. Snape would come in, and the last days of agony would become a distant memory. But it wasn't Snape; it was Ginny with a message for Ron.

"Hi, Harry," she smiled at him, the same way one might smile at a small baby. "Feeling better?"

Harry couldn't bear the coddling either, everyone treating him like he was fragile. Didn't they understand that he was already broken inside?

"Yes," he nodded.

"Thanks, Ginny," Ron pocketed the scrap of paper. "Tell them they might be able to see him for ten minutes later this afternoon, but no pictures."

Harry wanted to protest that he wasn't an invalid, that he didn't need Ron and Hermione acting like bodyguards, that he could stand on his own, but he just leaned against the pillows and stayed quiet.

That night, Hermione and Ron slept in the room with him, insisting to Pomfrey that they could stay in the infirmary or Harry could come back to the dorms, but they weren't leaving him alone. Hermione had rubbed his hands and petted his hair and Ron had talked in a low voice, and Harry pretended to fall asleep so they would stop worrying over him. Later, when they went to bed, Harry stared at the lone candle, watching the light flicker as the night went on and on.

Somewhere, deep below him, Snape's quarters lay empty. Harry couldn't stand the thought of those rooms with markers of Snape everywhere. It would be like a mausoleum, and Harry wondered if he could convince Dumbledore to wall off the rooms, just brick them up and never let anyone go in there again.

The next day, Harry finally insisted on getting out of bed. Pomfrey fussed, but she finally let him go, with the promise that he would come back later for a check-up. Harry went up to the Gryffindor common rooms, but Hermione and Ron flanked him, standing so close Harry almost asked them if it would be easier to carry him. They let him have short conversations with other people, but Hermione kept insisting that he rest, making him sit down in an armchair and wondering if a nap would help.

The unspoken topic remained unspoken; no one said a word about Snape. Harry tried once, but Ron told him they could discuss it later. "Snape did his part for the war," Ron said. "He would want you to get better now."

Harry tried to venture the topic again, but he found himself so overwhelmed emotionally at the thought of talking about his loss that he stayed quiet.

By that night, he realized that Snape had been gone two days. He lay in bed, unable to sleep with exhaustion pressing all around him. Finally, Harry threw off his covers, put on a robe and slippers, and headed down the stairs. The dark hall loomed with blackness, and he tried not to think about the time Snape had caught him and Ron sneaking around at night with the Marauders' Map. Harry didn't bother with his Cloak; if someone found him, he planned to say that he couldn't sleep and he couldn't stay still any longer.

At one point, he thought he heard footsteps, but he didn't turn around. He went into the dungeons and stood in front of the closed door to Snape's quarters. He put his hand on the latch, and it opened as Snape had charmed it to do. For a wild minute, Harry thought he might find Snape inside, sitting in his armchair or at his desk, "What are you doing out of bed at this hour? You might think you can wander around all you like, but I have news for you, young man."

The room was empty. Papers were on the desk, and books lay on various flat surfaces, but Snape was gone. Using the light from his wand, Harry circled the room. His chest hurt so bad he thought it might explode, but he made himself look at each object: the table where they set the tea tray when Harry spent the night, the two textbooks that Harry had left in here (Snape always got onto him about leaving his stuff everywhere), the potion bottles that Snape had been working on before they left for the holiday.

Harry realized that Snapdragon Manor lay empty, except for the house elves. He supposed it belonged to him now, but he couldn't endure the idea of living there without Snape. He would sell it or leave it to rot or burn it down – anything, except stay in it. He would give the house elves their freedom, and then he would never enter the Manor again.

Harry didn't go into Snape's bedroom; he had never really gone in there anyway. But he stopped at the small side room. About a month ago, Snape had cleaned out some books and extra items and given him the room, telling him that he wanted Harry to have a place to stay in case Snape had to stay over a few days on holiday break and Harry wouldn't have to sleep alone in the dorms.

The moment he stepped into the room, flames burst out of the fireplace and began to heat the room. Snape had charmed it; he said that Harry would forget to sleep with enough blankets and Snape didn't want to find a Harry-popsicle in the morning. As the room glowed warm with fire, Harry went to the bed and sat on it. The bed still had the green spread on it that Snape had nettled him with, smirking that the Gryffindor hero had to sleep under a Slytherin spread.

Harry lay on the bed and tried to concentrate on breathing. The pain had to go away eventually. It had to – he couldn't continue on like this forever, a shell of himself.

"Harry?" a voice spoke softly.

Harry sat up. Luna stood in the doorway, swinging her bare feet beneath her nightgown which was covered with pink radishes.

"Luna?"

"I followed you down here," she brushed her feet over the stone floor. "I thought you might want to be alone, but I also thought you might want someone near. Should I stay in the next room?"

"No, come in," without thinking, Harry scooted over on his bed, and Luna sat down.

She didn't say anything, but she looked deep into Harry's eyes.

"Aren't you going to say that I'm going to get better?" Harry finally broke the silence. "Aren't you going to tell me that it will get easier?"

"No," she shook her head, "because you don't want it to get easier. You think the pain you feel is good, that it means you hurt for a good reason. But if you didn't, it wouldn't mean you loved Snape any less. He knew how much you loved him."

Harry choked on a sob, but Luna was there, and suddenly their mouths were meeting. Harry didn't understand what was happening to him, but Luna was there and alive and warm and comforting, and he clung to her like a drowning victim. Harry knew he was crying, but he felt weak with desire for her, almost a need to crawl into her body and escape his pain for a while.

Then she laid him back on the bed, and for some unexplainable reason, she took off her nightgown, and he was looking at her pale, soft body in the firelight. Harry felt sure he was dreaming, but then he tugged down his pajama pants and reached up to grab her fingers for stability.

They didn't speak as they made love. Harry wasn't sure he was doing anything, and he kept crying, and he didn't know if he felt good or bad, but he was barely alive, depending on her to keep living. It was over after a few minutes for Harry, but Luna stayed on top of him for a few more moments before pulling off.

As she moved, he saw the small smear of blood between their two bodies. He had guessed that she was a virgin, just like him, but the mark of it, the fact that he had just taken her virginity when he was so lost and helpless –

Harry rolled on his side and broke into sobs.

"Shh, shh," Luna spooned behind him. "I'm here for you. Let me make this better for you. Just relax."

"I miss him so much," Harry grabbed Luna's hand and pulled it tight around his torso, glad for the warmth.

"Of course, you do. Do you think that if you died, he would miss you any less?"

"No," Harry muttered, "but it would be easier for me. Dying is easy. It's living without someone that's hard."

"Very hard," Luna sighed.

Harry turned over to look at her. "Is it going to get easier?"

"It will," she promised.

"And that will be a good thing?"

"The best thing in the world."

He leaned forward to kiss her. He watched her eyes drift shut slowly, the firelight turning her golden hair a reddish tint. Harry finally closed his eyes, falling asleep with his hands still holding onto her.

They awoke before dawn and went back upstairs, hand in hand. Harry had given her his robe, wondering why Luna could never remember to wear the right clothing. It was a wonder she didn't freeze to death.

They kissed right before they went back to their respective dorms, but Harry went into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't look any different. Bags were still under his eyes, and he looked haggard and drawn, but he didn't seem any different. He wasn't even sure if he felt different. He had always assumed his first time with a girl would be some glorious experience that made him feel like a hero, but it hadn't.

He wasn't even sure if it had made him feel better. But as he had gone to sleep beside Luna, he felt something besides numbness. Maybe that was a start.

HP& HP& HP& HP& HP& HP& HP& HP

Snape had been gone for ten days. Classes had resumed, but Defense Against the Dark Arts had been canceled. Dumbledore had called Harry into his office to see if he wanted to talk about what had happened.

"There's nothing to talk about, sir," Harry had replied. "I'd prefer not to talk about it."

Dumbledore told him to take time to grieve, and Harry nodded respectfully.

He went to all his classes, but none of the teachers assigned him any homework. They didn't ask him any questions in class, and McGonagall had told him in private that he would be exempt from any exams this year.

In the last week, he hadn't told anyone what happened with Luna. Luna saw him each day, and they kissed, but they didn't talk about what had happened. Harry even wondered if he had made the whole thing up or if it had been a bizarre dream.

He had stopped looking for Snape to appear, stopped expecting him to be right around the next corner, stopped hoping he would appear. For ten days, Snape was gone.

Harry stood in front of Snape's desk, wondering what to do with all the papers on the table. What should be done with Snape's potions? His books? His clothes?

Harry sat down on the sofa and propped his elbows on his face to bury his face in his hands for a moment. Then something shifted. Somewhere, something had changed.

Harry realized he was sitting on the floor of Snape's office, but the room felt different.

He stood up and turned around. Snape was sitting at the desk.

Harry felt a thrill rush through him, but before he could speak, he noticed that a window was at the end of the room, a window where there had used to be a bookcase. And outside the window it was raining. It was raining upside down, the droplets of water running up instead of down.

"This is a dream," Harry said to Snape. "This isn't real."

Snape said nothing.

"You're dead, aren't you?" Harry dropped his hands by his side. "You aren't really here. I'm asleep on the sofa."

"You look terrible," Snape said.

"You died. Of course, I look terrible. Would you look all right if I had died?"

"Even in grief, you're still cheeky," Snape noted. "You need to let me go."

Harry opened his mouth, but then he hesitated. The door opened and a second Snape walked in.

Harry jumped back with a cry, but the second Snape walked right past him and went to look at the window raining upside down. "Blasted students," Snape scowled. "Always playing pranks."

The second Snape headed back to the hall, his robes billowing around him. Harry turned to the other Snape in shock.

The Snape sitting at the desk shook his head. "After all this time, you don't recognize Legilimency."

"We're in my head? But how?"

"No, Harry," Snape frowned at his lack of intuition, "we're in my head."

Harry's knees suddenly felt weak. "In your head? But how? I thought you were dead? Are you dead? Are you alive?"

"I'm not sure," Snape admitted. "I feel scattered. I think it's my time to move on. I can't figure out where I am or what I am anymore. I'm lost out there, and I want to move on."

"No, no," Harry rushed to the desk. "No, Snape, I'm going to come find you. We'll put you back together somehow. If you aren't dead yet, I can still save you."

"Not anymore," Snape stood. "I fought a good fight. I protected you. You killed Voldemort – I can feel that much. The evil power is gone."

Harry looked closely and could see smooth skin on Snape's forehead. "I still have the Dark Mark."

"Dumbledore can probably remove that. I leave you in good hands. You've proved yourself, proved you don't need me anymore."

"I'm sixteen!" Harry cried out. "I'm still in school. Don't you want to see me in my twenties? Don't you want to see me get married and have kids and have some important job other than Voldemort-killer?"

"I would," Snape looked sad. "But my time is over. I've taught you all I can. I'm ready to leave."

Snape started walking towards the door and Harry looked around desperately. "You can't go. Please don't go."

Snape put his hand out for the door, and Harry tried to think of the most extreme thing he could say to make Snape stay, to get him not to leave.

"I slept with Luna," Harry blurted out.

Snape froze, and Harry could see his back tense up. Snape turned around and bellowed, "You did WHAT?"

"I slept with Luna down here in my room," Harry pointed towards the closed door of his small bedroom. "Two nights after you died. Or got scattered, whatever that means. I took her virginity and she took mine."

Snape drew himself up. "You slept with her? What were you thinking? What did I tell you, over and over again about girls? How could you do something so reckless?"

"You weren't here to say no," Harry crossed his arms smugly. "I can do whatever I want."

"I'm going to tan your behind from one side of Britain to the other," Snape threatened. "When I get a hold of you, I'll make sure you are the sorriest boy I've ever had the displeasure to meet. I can't leave for two days before you start sleeping with every girl who throws herself at you."

"Just Luna."

"Foolish, impulsive, thoughtless, childish –"

"I'm coming to find you," Harry smiled. "I'm getting Ron and Hermione, and we're coming to get you. Wherever you are, however long it takes – we're leaving today to find you."

"You can't leave school without permission," Snape was outraged. "You aren't of age yet. Don't you dare take one step –"

"I'm stopping by the manor first," Harry went on. "I'm rounding up anything we might need. And I'll get Hermione to raid the potions closet to see what we can take with us."

"You lay one finger on that closet and I'll –"

"I'll strip the manor bare and sell it if I have to," Harry said. "It belongs to me now. You didn't give me a choice in the whole exchange of marks thing, and I'm not giving you a choice now. How does that feel? You better hang on for us because I promise that I will spend the rest of my life tracking you down. I don't care what I have to do, or who I have to use, or what I have to give up. I will find you."

Harry lifted his head. He was back on the sofa, and the room was empty.

He stood up. He could feel the magic coursing through him, pure power of righteous strength. He went up to the dorms and found his Cloak in the bottom of his trunk where Dumbledore had placed it after the last fight.

Harry went up to the Grand Hall and found Ron and Hermione finishing up lunch. "Come with me," he told them.

Once they were outside, Harry turned around. "Snape's alive. He used Legilimency on me to reach me, I'm not really sure how."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and Ron's eyes got big.

"He's scattered out there somewhere. I'm going to find him. I know that sounds crazy, and if you think I've lost it, you don't have to come. But I'm going to find him. There wasn't a body. We didn't find any more of him other than the scar he stole from me. He's out there, and I'm going to figure out a way to put him back together."

"Harry," Hermione began, but Ron put a hand on her arm.

"I know he sounds mad," Ron told her, "but after all this time, don't you think we owe him a chance. The last time he got the vision thing, my dad was bit by the snake."

"But how could Snape survive this long?" Hermione shook her head. "How can someone be scattered without bleeding out?"

"I don't know, but I fail to see how Snape could talk to me if he's dead. I have to go do something. I can't stay here. I understand if you have to, but –"

"Of course, we're coming with you," Ron said. "Just because Voldemort's dead doesn't mean his followers are all rounded up. You need us for protection. I want another battle scar, maybe on the other side of my face to even it out. Hope I won't get too ugly for you, Hermione."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Oh, fine, but I wish you could have chosen a time other than the beginning of second term. My marks will plummet."

"Your marks will be fine," Ron told her.

They started down the path together when Luna ran up to join them.

"I felt something had changed," she said.

"It has," Harry swallowed. "We're leaving now to find Snape. I know it sounds crazy, but I promise we'll be back soon."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, Luna, you can't. It's too dangerous."

"Always his favorite line," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I've felt weird lately," Luna dreamily looked up at the gray sky. "I had an extra self-diagnosis test. I did it on myself and found something."

"You're sick?" Harry froze.

"No," she smiled at him, "I'm pregnant."

The world stopped.

Luna put a hand over her flat stomach. "It's only been a week, but I can feel it. I have to come with you to protect the father of my child."

"Harry?" Hermione gasped as she turned huge eyes on him.

"Blimey, mate," Ron shook his head, "Snape's going to kill you."

That, Harry thought, was an understatement.

Somehow, yet again, his story had changed and a new beginning was dawning.

The End


End file.
